


honey, peaches, and cream

by goabani



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, M/M, Movie Night, Pining, Slow Burn, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goabani/pseuds/goabani
Summary: Close to years of silently pining, Genji musters up the courage to asking none other than McCree out. He couldn't be happier with the man of his dreams, expect when those dreams become nightmares of mysteries and old ghosts. Genji realizes that he misses that signature smile so much he decides that he'll stop at nothing to make his man happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aight so i've kinda had this rattling around in my head for awhile. initially, this was gonna be purely fluff and the boys being cute with each other but the more i wrote the more i got into it ;w; updated regularly (about every week or so) and each chapter is generally the around the same length in the beginning until things start to pick up.

    If Genji could, he would've done a spit-take.

    “You believed I was straight?” He croaked, stuck between amused and disgruntled that he was taken as such. He melted further into the well-loved beanbag chair as he mauled over what Mei had just told him.

    “I mean- I didn't.” Hana piped from the couch a good way across the room, legs swinging idly over the armrest as she tapped away on her phone. She wasn’t even part of their conversation beforehand up until the scientist made the comment. “Don't know how _she_ did.” Mei started, flushing in embarrassment as she tried to justify her beliefs.

    “I just thought that you and Angie were, ah-y’know!” She stammered through wild hand gestures and a shrill squeak. When all she got in return were blank stares, she yelped and smothered herself in her hoodie’s fluffy collar in red-faced shame, profusely apologizing behind the layers of fabric.

    “Of all people to take me as straight, it was the lesbian..?”

    “So, your flirting isn’t working?” Hana interrupted his self-reflection, gaze falling on Genji’s vacant visor for a brief second for slipping back to her phone. Genji shyly rubbed the back of his neck, pinching at the muscles and wires to ease some tension. The sharp sparks sent along his main spinal cord distracted him momentarily but did little to appease him.

    “Ah. No, it is not.” He dropped his head to view his hands, fiddling with his fingers in a frantic way. Jesse McCree was naturally a flirtatious individual, making it rather difficult for it to be clear what's genuine and what's play. Which is what made him even _more_ endearing to him! “When I flirt with him, he doesn't take me seriously!” He griped, a whine edging into his tone as he slumped into the beanbag supporting his rants.

    “Well, be direct. What exactly are you doing, cheesy pickup lines?” The gamer shot as she sat up quickly. Genji shrugged, made a noise in his throat, and tried to clarify with an obscure wave of a hand. “Great.” Hana deadpanned. “Good start-” she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, “try to make him breakfast or something. The man eats like he’s dying.” Her voice conveyed annoyance, but her smile told him she has been down the same road of awkward crushes and frivolous flirting.

    Breakfast could be promising, and McCree was generally an early-riser on the weekdays. It is possible to make something before he wakes up, however rushed considering it was just about dawn. But damn, if it wasn’t worth a shot.

 

    Genji probably should’ve remembered before he cracked the eggs that he did not actually know how Americans prefer them. But he stood there, staring at three eggs in a skillet literally burning to the bottom as he struggled not to panic at the smoke curling towards the ceiling. He was so close to having a meltdown when Lena blinked in with a worried look and an eye to the stove.

    “What… are you doin’, luv?” She spoke softly to the spooked animal by the lit stovetop. In an instant he had cleared the counter separating them and was clutching her shoulders like a lifeline.

    “Lena! I wanted to impress McCree with breakfast but then I forgot how to cook-” She interrupted him with a sharp giggle before clapping a hand over her mouth a second too late to stifle it.

    “Oh, my goodness. This is all about your little puppy love for Jesse? Oh, sweetie!” Lena blinked out of his clutch to get to the burning eggs to rescue the skillet from permanent damage. It was a start but certainly far from his goal. But she continued on as his dutiful wingman and saving the mission within a few seconds with three more eggs, some butter, and a fresh, clean skillet at the ready. Still reeling at her aloof but game-changing reaction, he was surprised to turn and find everything in order like he hadn’t touch the space. With a wink and a lighthearted giggle, she beckoned him over to her setup.

    “Alright, luv, time to impress your Prince Charming!” She set everything down, turned the stove back on, and had just set butter in the heating skillet before her smile fell. She glanced at him- up and then down, and blinked away to the supply closet. “Oh- and you might wanna wear this.”

* * *

 

     McCree woke up to the smell of eggs, coffee- and most importantly, bacon, and was out of his nest of sheets in seconds. A loose flannel and boxers would suffice for a trip to the kitchen, shame wasn’t necessarily a thing that held Jesse McCree back. Before leaving, Athena chimed at him lightly as usual with a little added note.

    “Agent McCree, it is six-fifty a.m. and expected to storm. Dress accordingly-”

    “I know, darlin’. Thank ya.”

    “and Agent Genji wishes to see you in the kitchen ASAP.” He froze a step from the door, cocking his head and looking at the glowing panel imbedded in the wall, casting his living quarters in a faint blue.

    “You say Genji is in the kitchen?”

    “Correct.” What could the kid possibly cook that smelled so good? The answer, as it turned out, was probably the best full breakfast he has seen in some time. The smell damn near knocked him off his feet, and the sight of Genji setting it out on the table with Lena chirping to him in the usual rush of nonsense. She turned and beamed at him, delivering a hearty welcome before turning back to murmur to the cook. Sliding into the seat, there was already a plate laid out for him before he even got situated. First, he noticed that the eggs are cooked just right.

    Scarcely any brown with no raw white left and the three yolks all intact. Bacon in thick strips were crunchy and still popping with grease from the skillet. Also added were two toasted slices of bread, slathered with a generous helping of butter. And… Genji wearing an apron tied snugly around his hips, he noted while his back was turned.

    When Genji finally set the coffee down by his plate, he locked eyes with an awestruck McCree. His mouth was agape, quirked up into a little smile. The gunslinger stood up from his stool, struggling to cross the counter with no corporation on Genji’s part- and placed a gentle peck on the cheek of his visor. Out of the side of the cyborg’s eye, he could see Lena pump her fist in the air with silent glee.

    “Thank ya, honeybee. It looks amazin’.” McCree said, expression amused yet kind as Genji reached up to feel where he kissed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji has to resort to getting advice from McCree's long time friend if he wants any chance of hooking up.

    A thin veil of sweat coated McCree’s skin, both men's breathing labored as they sparred. Bodies lowered with teeth bared, they were circling each other like animals caught in a territorial dispute. Easily, Genji grappled McCree in a hold around his neck, the cowboy not quick enough to evade the ninja.  With a grunt of exertion, McCree successfully flipped Genji onto the mats and safely incapacitated him with an arm barred across his throat. Genji clicked his tongue for not being as focused as he should be, both knowing full well he could have easily escaped that hold if he put his mind to it, yet chose to surrender the moment his back hit the mat. It has been three hours and they were still at it, throwing each other down and taking blow after blow in meaningless combat. Accepting the outstretched hand gratefully, Genji hopped to his feet and shook the ache from his body for another round when McCree began to head towards the door.

    “Aw, giving up already?” Genji teased, trying to reel the other in for just one more round. McCree just laughed breathlessly and shook his head, hovering in the doorway to the locker room.

    “Not working today, Genji. ‘M filthy.” McCree said, gesturing towards his sweaty body with a lighthearted grimace. Genji rolled his eyes to that but only after following McCree’s hands as he indicated to his sweaty body, quickly snatching his visor and towel off the bench before falling in line with McCree.

    “You know, Morrison was saying that the water bill has been a bit high.” Genji said nonchalantly, praying that McCree couldn't tell how awful of a liar he was being; desperately pulling nonsense from his ass just for an excuse to slip into the shower beside the cowboy. If he did notice however, he didn't directly mention it for Genji's sake, instead laughing heartily and raising an eyebrow in his direction.

    “Did he now? Old man always liked to complain.” McCree mused as he turned the water on, slinging his towel around his sweaty shoulders as he began to undress. Genji watched as skilled fingers undid the outrageous belt buckle, slipping the belt out of its loops and folding it over in a practiced motion. He pried his eyes away when McCree got to unzipping his jeans, busying himself with the strings of his sweats.

    “We got government funding, we'll be fine.” He concluded, slipping into the hot stream of water. Luckily with McCree’s back turned, he didn't see Genji’s shoulders droop with defeat of how he rubbed his temples and mentally berated himself for not trying harder. Either he was really off his game or McCree was just really good at evading him. Hell, he knew he was pretty good! He wasn't called a playboy all those years for nothing. Feeling just a little awkward to be standing in the shower area doing nothing, he scrambled to collect his things and hit the road before it got _too_ weird.

    “See ya at supper, Genji.” McCree called out when he heard the shuffle of feet. Stealing once glance at the cowboy before humming an acknowledgement, he was running off with a red face and a string of swears in his mother language.

    Genji got about five steps out of the locker rooms before he ran head-first into Fareeha. In comedic addition to his already rough day, Genji fell flat on his ass with a gym bag hitting him squarely in the stomach and Fareeha let out a startled ‘oop!’ upon impact, flailing as she failed to catch him.

    “I'm so sorry! Are you okay?” Fareeha gushed all at once, helping the fallen cyborg get to his feet and stooped to collect his scattered items. Swatting the dust off his rump, he offered the gym bag back when he took in her appearance of a sports bra and white sweats; she was going to workout as well.

    “Physically, but I am afraid I might've lost some dignity.” Genji said, watching as her face went from concern to confusion to amusement in record time. She laughed outright, hugging him closer with a strong arm around the shoulder and patting his bicep with the other. Something about her always reminded her of an older sister, and he just couldn't put his finger on it.

    “You finally get it?” There it was, the knowledge about your business where they had no right sticking their noses. Fareeha was the cat that got the cream, a certain look that put Genji off. He gasped and swatted at her stomach as his cheeks heated up, making her snicker and dismiss the minor assault.

    “No, and that is why I am wounded.” Genji blurted, head low and all hangdog. Fareeha straightened, a sympathetic frown taking place. Now, the arm come back around as an act of comfort.

    “Ouch. He turn you down that bad?” Fareeha murmured, ushering him along so they wouldn’t obscure the walkway with their soliciting. Genji giggled and shook his head, twiddling with the faceplate in his grasp.

    “No, no. I do not think I'm doing this 'flirting' thing right.” He admitted, “I am not being direct and... I need some advice.” Fareeha hummed and nodded slowly, rubbing her chin like she was deep in thought. A grin tugged her lips and puffed out her chest.

    “If you're needing tips on how to catch yourself a Jesse McCree, look no farther!” Fareeha declared. Genji, a little more than skeptical, was willing to give her ‘expertise’ a chance if it increased the odds of landing him a date.

    “Enlighten me, wise one.” Genji indulged, easing into step beside her when she giggle at the newly-earned title. "-Also, you missed it." Taking him by the elbow, she ushered him into the training room where she was headed. She hummed inquisitively as she pulled her arm across her chest in preparation.

    "Pharah-ther." Fareeha wasn't ready, the giggle rising up bubbling over until she was laughing hard enough to double over at the simple pun. She straightened with a sigh, a pleased look on her face as she wiped a tear away and settled her hands on her hips and looked down at her pupil. Genji was the spitting image of an eager student, hands politely folded in his lap and focus trained on Fareeha, all for a boy. It felt like high school again.

    “Alrighty. So, what have you been doing already?” Not _this_ again. Genji shrugged, taking a seat by the mats where Fareeha dropped her gym bag. Fareeha raised an eyebrow, not quite satisfied with the answer but deciding not to bother since it obviously hasn’t worked yet.

    “Let’s start with the basics. You know the quickest way to a man’s heart?” Fareeha asked, suspending a heavy punching bag and idly wrapping and unwrapping her knuckles as she glanced to the side.

    “The fourth and fifth rib?”

    “No, Genji. His stomach.” Fareeha chuckled. A sense of humor wouldn’t be a problem at least. And thank god for that.

    “But I’ve made him breakfast before and he didn’t seem to catch it.” Genji groused, throwing his hands out in exasperation and rolling onto his side. Fareeha didn’t say anything at that, clearly chewing something over in her mind as she did toe touches.

    “Okay, I’ve known the big guy for years. One thing he never passes up is a good movie in good company.” Genji sat back up, now interested. He mentally facepalmed himself, considering how cliche it sounded, he had no idea how he didn’t consider.

    “Done. Is there any movies he likes?”

    “Oh yeah, it’s hard to find movies he doesn’t like. The bastard likes movies he doesn’t like because he likes not liking them.” Both paused, Fareeha freezing with her arm pulled back to strike the punching bag as she winced at the wording. Genji scoffed at the way it was said, but got the point. McCree wasn’t picky. Genji hopped to his feet, determination welling inside his chest as he was already thinking about how he could ask McCree out. It can’t be that hard, right?

    "Oh- and if you want something a little extra, try the good old 'Brokeback Mountain." She said with a wink and a chesire grin, putting a little pizzazz in her words as she threw herself into the next punch that sent the heavy duty punching bag swinging. Genji hardly caught that as he was already racing from where he was sitting, but nearly choked on his words when he processed it.

    “Thank you!” Genji called out as he darted out the room, just as McCree had entered the room fresh from the showers. Puzzled, he tilted his head and glanced from the door to Fareeha. Idly scratching his dampened belly fluff, his eyes followed the green streak leaving the room.

    “What was that about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying to keep up with posting chapters,,, sorry if none of them are all that long !  
> my tumblr @bunnnyrabbit (with three n's)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever heard someones voice so beautiful that you didn't know what to do with yourself?

    Not as well known, McCree owned a beautiful antique guitar from his travels as a wanted man. The instrument is nearly a decade old from what McCree proclaims, the wood on it scratched to hell and back, but it did little to dull the magnificence of the design etched into the surface of the guitar. Delicately tuned when played and treated with utmost care, it was rare to catch McCree fiddling with it let alone playing a melody.

    Now he sat alone, legs dangling over the edge of the roof as he switched from strumming to tuning, pick hanging from his lips as he worked. Genji watched from a discreet distance, having been meditating with Zenyatta when the gentle notes distracted him. Zenyatta, ever observant, didn’t say anything at first until it was clear the Genji would not be able to concentrate well enough with McCree within sight.

    “Go talk to him, my sparrow.” The monk said, calmly looking up at the cyborg. They locked gazes for a moment, and Genji’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

    “Am I trully that noticeable?” Genji sighed, shuffling to stand up and stealing a moment to dust himself off. Zenyatta laughed, a feather light sound in Genji’s ears and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

    “Not quite. I can sense the ache inside you when you see him.” Zenyatta supplied, resuming his meditation with nothing else to add. Genji simply stared for a couple more seconds to process that before he was making his way over to the cowboy, seemingly unaware of his approach. Politely, he made his foot fall louder to alert McCree, who looked up with a smile and a light in his eyes when Genji took a seat beside him.

    “I was not aware that you played.” Genji hummed, watching how his fingers slid up the neck of the guitar to make one final adjustment before he eased into a comfortable position, leg crossed over the other.

    “Don’t play often enough then.” McCree chuckled, idly strumming the cords as he searched through his memory for a tune. Genji watched with a twinge of amusement when he had to shut his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose as he fought to remember something specific. Finally, he took the pick from his lips and gave a few experimental flicks to the cords.

    “Clearly.” Genji teased, propping his chin in a palm to watch as he finally started to pick up an old tune. It was soft, certainly fitting and a welcome addition to the tranquil atmosphere the setting sun and cloudless sky provided.

_ Hang me, oh hang me. I’ll be dead and gone. Hang me, oh hang me. I’ll be dead and gone. _

    For once, Genji considered his visor to be something short of a godsend as he gawked at McCree’s voice, blushing furiously at his deep and honey-smooth rumble that reverberated within his chest.

_ Wouldn't mind the hanging. But the layin' in a grave so long, poor boy. I been all around this world. _

    Word true to the iris, watching McCree plucking each cord in tandem and the way he had such a relaxed and happy look to him was making Genji swoon like a schoolgirl.

_ I been all 'round cape Gigardeau, parts of Arkansas. All around cape Giradeau, parts of Arkansas _

    Leaning over just enough, McCree gently rested his head on Genji’s shoulder, strumming lazily as he fought a yawn between the lyrics. It made Genji giggle, reaching up to thread his hand through McCree’s messy locks to clear his eyes. He made a note to ask if he has actually been to said places, some other time perhaps.

_ Got so goddamn hungry, I could hide behind a straw, poor boy. I been all around this world. _

    Genji not-so-subtly looped an arm around his waist and tugged him closer, McCree’s strumming not hitching once as he shifted closer. He could practically hear the smile in the cowboy’s singing as he resumed his position of resting against Genji; a lingering glance finding a pleased grin, stretching to crinkle his eyes but never dimming the fire in those dark depths.

_ Went up on a mountain, there i made my stand. Went up on a mountain, there i made my stand. _

   “Do you… ah…” Genji faltered, momentarily interrupting McCree’s singing before dismissing himself with a wave. Interested, McCree perked up, still strumming as he hummed inquisitively.

   “What’s on yer mind?” McCree asked, prying delicately as Genji shook his head at first.

_ Rifle on my shoulder and a dagger in my hand, poor boy. I been all around this world. _

    It took a good, long moment for Genji to collect himself, the butterflies in his stomach threatening to escape as a surge of nervousness.

    “Do you want to watch a movie with me, McCree?” Genji blurted at once, body sagging with relief that it was out of his system. The orchestration came to a stop for just a brief moment before McCree chuckled and sighed, picking it up again. Nervous as well, he was keeping his hands busy.

_ So hang me, oh hang me, I'll be dead and gone. Hang me, oh hang me, I’ll be dead and gone. _

   “This why you’ve been so skittish with li’l ol’ me?” Genji was rooted to his seat, staring at his lap as his anxiety reached a boiling point. He can handle rejection, but he didn’t need to be taunted. He nodded.

_ I wouldn't mind the hanging, but the layin' in a grave so long, poor boy. I been all around this world. _

    “Sugar, I’d love to.” Genji perked up, jostling McCree from his shoulder in his surprise and excitement. Bewildered, the cowboy took one look at his friend and had to set the guitar aside as laughter bubbled out of him. Genji, even confused, let out a little giggle.

_ Put the rope around my neck, and hung me up so high. Put the rope around my neck, hung me up so high. _

    “Did ya think I’d really say no t’you?” McCree said once he calmed down and caught his breath, a gentle blush stretched along his cheeks. Genji shrugged, sheepishly rubbing his feet together.

    “Maybe a little.”

_ Last words i heard 'em say, ‘Won't be long now for you die, poor boy.’ I been all around this world. _

    McCree flashed his toothy grin, and knocked their heads together affectionately. A breeze picked up, cool and calm and running through his hair. He looked relaxed, eyelids drooping with exhaustion and a smile permanently etched into his lips. 

_ So hang me, oh hang me, I'll be dead and gone. Hang me, oh hang me, I'll be dead and gone. _

   Genji savored the moment, simply watching McCree as the sun dipped along the waterline behind him, the fiery red complimenting his coffee-brown eyes and the miniscule freckles dusting his features quite generously.

_ I wouldn't mind the hanging, but the layin' in a grave so long, poor boy. I been all around this world. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG: Hang Me, o Hang Me - Oscar Issac  
> this has to be the cutest thing i've ever written,,,, oh my


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There plenty of good times for a movie date, but 2:30 AM isn't one of them.

    Genji wiggled between the cushions of the well-loved couch, finding comfort in the hidden folds of the furniture. McCree was busy starting the movie he got out upon Genji’s request, in which he took in stride.

    “I still think it's a tad late to be startin’ a movie.” McCree reasoned, plopping down next to the cyborg, who was being smothered by the giant cushions.

    “Never too late for a comedy.” Genji fired back. The movie of his choice was from the early 2000’s, decided on after Genji had done enough research and politely asked Lena to watch it first to see if it was any good. Two hours of silence without the brit was shattered when Lena blinked in and clutched his shoulders with a deathly serious glint in her eyes. Despite that, she was still struggling to keep that smile of hers under wraps. 

    “He’ll love it.” Lena reinforced with a shake, to which Genji gently wiggled out of with an almost unnerved nod. Point received.

    “And trust me, it'll be worth it.” Genji said, escaping from the confines of the fluffy cushions to hold out his hand. Gratefully taking the outstretched hand, McCree intertwined their fingers and shuffled closer so they were pressed together.  _ He  _ didn’t seem to have any qualms with it but Genji felt like he was going to melt, face heating up as he glanced down to watch the gunslinger’s fingers wiggle as he got comfortable. Laying his other hand atop the cowboy’s, he traced his veins and mapped the way they bulged from his skin. McCree hummed happily at the small ministrations and knocked their heads together. Already, just ten minutes in, McCree was smiling like a fool, eyes crinkled with the intensity of it. He must've caught Genji sneaking a peak (for far too long) because he shuffled just a bit closer. 

    “Y’er right, I love it.” McCree chuckled, the laugh making Genji’s stomach do a flip. To be honest, this has to be the first time he has seen the movie himself and he was a little iffy about it. But despite the title, it wasn't  _ super  _ bad. If McCree enjoyed it, that's all that mattered in his humble opinion.

    Once they got to the part with McLovin meeting the two cops, Genji must've started zoning out as the next thing he registered was a totally different scene and McCree’s thigh thrown overtop of his. He gulped, stealing a glance at the cowboy to find him still heavily invested in the movie, acting like he wasn't luxuriously showing himself off to his date. He  _ might've _ been exaggerating on that one, but it was still hard to focus on the screen when McCree clung to him like a needy stray cat. 

    All too soon, a knock on the door startled the cowboy off Genji as Winston peeked his head in a little cautiously. He tittered, fully stepping in and (with a fleeting glance at the screen) cleared his throat. The couple shuffled around a bit, McCree throwing an arm over the couch to properly look at the scientist.

    “Athena alerted me that you two were still in here, and uh…” Winston awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose, “wanted to advise you to keep it down. The other younger agents have retired for the night.”

    “Told ya, sweetheart.” McCree gloated, poking Genji’s side for emphasis. Genji muttered something and swatted his hand away playfully, dipping his head in acknowledgment at Winston’s words. Once the scientist had successfully retreated, leaving the pair in awkward silence, McCree made the first move with an exaggerated stretch. Genji scoffed and patted at his legs when they were thrown over his lap. Getting bolder by the second, Genji shuffled so he was partly between McCree’s thighs with his arms hooked under his legs and purposely took a moment of hesitation before he picked him with with a strained breath. The cowboy flushed a deep berry-blush as he fell forward in his arms until they were chest to chest. An awkward beat passed between them and McCree cracked with a goofy smile.

    “Howdy.”

    Genji only rolled his eyes and maneuvered them around the couch to the door (thankfully left somewhat ajar) and onwards to the rec room ‘kitchen.’ Despite McCree being heavy enough to strain his arms, he marched down the hallway to the small lounge and plopped him onto the counter by the fridge. McCree chuckled and gave him a peck on the cheek as thanks before hopping down. Gathering the essentials from the cupboards and fridge, McCree set about making a snack. Curious, Genji stops what he’s doing to peek over McCree’s shoulder at the sandwiches he was making. Even with a strong stomach and a history of war under his belt, Genji grimaced at the weird sandwich McCree was making.

    “Is that…?”

    “Oreos and ham? Yes, it is.” McCree hummed, sliding the lump of mayonnaise around with the butter knife before smooshing it down into the cheese and ham slices. Thankfully not touching the mayonnaise (Genji would’ve gagged) was about three or four oreos, forming the foundations of the monstrosity the cowboy called a sandwich.

    “That’s disgusting, Jesse.” Genji stated, resting a hand on McCree’s hip and drumming his fingers against his hipbone. 

    “Don’t knock it ‘til ya try it, honey.” McCree scolded, hip-checking the cyborg as he took a bite from his creation. Genji rolled his eyes but leaned his head into his scruffy jaw. He’ll ignore it just this once. He butted his head to catch his attention, smile going all goofy when McCree gave a kiss on the cheek, the lasting warmth of his lips made his heart skip a beat. The cowboy laughed at Genji’s cute reaction, McCree’s free hand reaching up to card through his messy, vibrant green hair and pull him into another kiss. Before either could get too into it, a soft scuffle of bare feet across the tile floor startled Genji off. Hana blinked blearily, ignoring them as she trudged over to the sink right beside the couple. It was close watching a bear exit the cave after a nap as Hana began to set her dishes in the sink and fill her cup with water in silence. Not moving a breadth of an inch from where they were, still pressed together, they watched the cryptid work around them like they weren’t taking up space. At last, she made a move to the door before she stopped again and stared owlishly at the sandwich in McCree’s hand.

    “Dontcha dare.” McCree started, watching the little lady march forward and pluck it from his grasp like he wasn’t  _ thee _ highest on the international wanted list. McCree stood there slack jawed for a couple of seconds before sighing and rubbing a hand down his face in defeat. Leaning against Genji and looking back at him, he smiled with tired eyes. Genji had to catch himself from getting lost in his soulful and beautiful eyes, eyes that have seen so much and had heard so many jokes. His gaze touched on the crow’s feet etched into his features, swearing that it made him even more handsome that way. But even as he locked eyes with Genji, his smile met his eyes, true and genuine as he gave Genji’s head a little scratch to reel him in.

    “Getting sleepy?” Genji hummed after a long moment, having given McCree the chance to let out his yawn. McCree snorted and waved him off, settling on nibbling on a single orea in place of his stolen sandwich.

    “Gettin’ there.” The cowboy hummed, resting against his shoulder and shutting his eyes for a couple of seconds. Genji watched him soften, feeling his breath deepen before he jostled him out of it.

     “You’re not sleeping in the kitchen, Jesse.” Genji scolded the cowboy, who shot a lighthearted glare at the other for rousing him. Yet he obliged with a grumble, gratefully accepting his hand as Genji walked him to his quarters. They walked through the darkened corridors in relative silence, save for the melancholic tune McCree hummed under his breath and the scuff of his spurs against the metal paneling of the floor. Coincidentally, their dorms where practically across the hall from each other.

    “Where do ya think y’er goin’?” McCree stopped him by the arm and pulled him back in. Genji grinned and leaned in to kiss him goodnight.

    “So.” Athena whispered to him, following him through the room. “How was the date with Agent McCree?” Genji froze next to his nightstand, visor slipping from his grip in surprise.

    “Were you watching us..?”

    “Absolutely.” Genji fell back onto his bed, stripping off the military grade t-shirt and shimmying out of his sweatpants. His cheeks heated up and he glanced at the glowing panel in the wall that housed the AI. The snooping, smug AI. He broke out into a dorky smile and brushed a spare lock of dyed hair behind his ear.

    “So.” Genji started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry it took as long as it did QwQ


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on an island with an illegal operation, you run out of date ideas really quickly.

“What do you mean you have a gaming tournament? There is no competition,” Genji groaned in exasperation, rubbing the metal over his temples.

“Aw, you flatter me. But you guys already watched movie,” Hana points out with snap of her bubblegum. Hana was damn near impossible to bargain with, as she knows how to pull stunts like this that make everything seem final. Genji slouches into the bean bag with a loud, annoying drone of a whine until Hana slapped her laptop shut and glared at him. He promptly shuts up.

“That was almost a week ago.”

“It was three days ago,” Hana corrects with a fake grin, kicking her legs up onto the TV stand as she opens her laptop again, “Find some other cliche date idea.” Genji pouts like an honest-to-god child and pulls out his phone to deliver the news.

_ No movie tonight,  _ he taps out. His overeager cowboy responded instantly.

_ Aw, really?  _ McCree shoots back, Genji feeling the disappointment through the holoscreen as his fingers traced the tiny hearts by his name.

_ Sorry, J,  _ Genji said before adding in afterthought,  _ I’ll think of something.  _ He hopes the string of heart emojis makes up for the change of plans; from the response of twice as many sent back, he figured as such.

Genji gets within the ten minute mark of his moping period before Hana throws a pachimari plush from across the room to nab his attention. Admittedly, the sudden appearance of the toy shocked him out his thinking as he glanced up to meet the gamer’s quite intense gaze. He must’ve been ignoring her, as she looked fairly agitated with her narrow glare and infinitesimal curl to her lips. 

“Geez, you ever pay attention to anything?” she grumbles with enough bite to make Genji wince, “-other than your cowboy.” If he had anything to retort before, he lost it with his already weak will to fight with her.

“Forgive me, Hana,” Genji says with a polite dip of his head when he sits up, offering his full attention. It must’ve mended some of the newly-formed rift as Hana pauses her game in turn. She seemed appeased even if it was just a little, taking a moment to remove her soundproof headset and neatly tuck her hair behind her ears.

“Okay!” she starts with a clap of her hands, “I’m saving you from a possible date disaster, thank me later.” Genji frowned at that, but has long since learned not to sass Hana on any matter. Alternatively, he leans forward with his chin propped upon his open palm to express his distaste.

“So I was thinking… McCree is a man of simple pleasures, right?” Hana prompts with grin, “Likes drinking and talking about himself.” Genji snorted at the accusation that the man he was after was ‘ _ simple.’  _ The gunslinger was a walking enigma in this day and age, and so were his tastes.

“Jesse does not, in fact, like talking about himself  _ that _ much,” Genji corrects, “but continue.” Hana looked incredibly shocked at the correction, almost like it had offended her mother in some way.

“Anyway,” she dismissed with a scowl, “I just gave you one or two date ideas, my dude.” Hana obviously didn’t wanna hear it as the moment Genji had opened his mouth to riposte her claim, the headset was covering her ears and his words died on his tongue. He tossed his hands up in irritation, a part of him intending for the gesture to be seen.

As Genji made a move to vacate his little nest he had created, Hana cleared her throat and brought him to a halt. She thumbed over the menu button and slipped the headset to her neck.

“Uh,” she started with a stammer, “I mean there is always…” Genji had to watch her with annoyance as she scrambled to find a coherent way to convey her idea. She eventually swept her hair over her shoulder and relaxed; just enough to hold up the okay gesture.

“I’m going to stop you there,” Genji said firmly, hoisting himself up so he could escape Hana’s rampant giggling.

“Am I wrong, though?” Hana snickers, her teeth flashing white from her grin. Genji cracks a small smile himself, albeit just a quirk of the lips. The last thing he wanted to admit, but it was definitely something he has considered on plenty lonely nights.

“Another time perhaps.”

“That’s the spirit!” the gamer whooped, face softening as she watched Genji go. Sighing at her newfound solitude, she buried herself in the game.

Pacing it from the rec room, Genji gently rapped his knuckles against the wall to draw Athena’s attention. A faint blue glow appeared beneath his touch and he gave a tiny smile. It was a small secret, one between only him and Zenyatta, that Genji was quite close to Athena. She has become his confidant about anything from practical matters to more personal issues that might arise. He greatly admired her for her ability to understand and guide him through every situation presented.

“Greetings, Genji. What is it that you need?” she chimes through the corridor as he pauses at the corner. She seems happy today, Genji guesses she got a software update.

“Athena, have you seen McCree?” he says rather politely. Athena let out a droning hum as she tapped into the bountiful resources throughout the base to find the man in question.

“I believe,” she murmurs in a reassuring tone, “that he is in the gardens helping out with our friend Bastion.”

“Thank you!” Genji perked up immediately, delighted to know that the gunslinger was out and about. Athena mumbled an acknowledgment towards his gratitude, and the low illumination beneath his touch disappeared altogether. He backpedaled as his listless pacing brought him to skip past the indoor terrarium.

Slipping through the ajar sliding door (Angela was gonna fuss about the pollen) and tiptoeing around all the equipment scattered about the floor. Luckily, his allergies were of no concern if he kept his mask on through his little adventure through the homegrown jungle- and the door be kept shut for other members of similar ailments. Through the various tables lined with different species of flowers and vines, around the large water tank, he could see Bastion and McCree. 

Both inhabiting the relatively tiny space of the makeshift meadow, Genji was careful to let himself be known by tapping against the steel tank. Bastion chirped as they glanced up with McCree’s head following in turn. Ganymede, previously in the rafters above the trio, trilled as she made a perch atop Genji’s helmet. Chuckling and ushering the bird to sit on his offered hand, he held the other arm out to accept McCree’s eager welcome.

“Glad t’see ya, darlin’,” he says with a little peck on the cheek of his mask when he leans in for the hug. Compensation for the meeting place, he supposes. “Just helpin’ Bastion out. Zenny told me they were fixed for a bird house or somethin’ of th’ like.” Bastion gives a questioning hum at their name being mentioned, but proceeds to ignore the duo for Ganymede’s arrival. Genji, free from the little bird if just for a second, gets swooped up by McCree with a quiet giggle.

“I have an idea for our date,” Genji announces, legs bracketing McCree’s waist as his feet clear the ground entirely. The gunslinger’s lip catches his eye, inspiring him to not so subtly thumb at the lower lip to get a decent look. Where his cigar is missing, he has made up for the idle teething by nipping at the inside of his lip until it has gone raw. McCree lets him look, knowing his cheeks are getting red under his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m listenin’,” he says once he is free of any roaming digits.

“Grab your comforter and pillows, then meet me by the kitchen.” Genji gently knocks their foreheads together in a meager attempt of affection through the visor and wiggles his way out of McCree’s bear hug. McCree whines and gives him his best pout- which was only cute and not nearly as persuasive as he wanted it to be.

“Why don’t we keep ‘em where they are and meet them in my quarters instead?” McCree suggests with a look that says anything but innocence.

“Another time,” Genji assures as he steps back from his boyfriend, a lingering touch on his chest before he’s gone.

Being the much more childish one of the dragon brothers, McCree should’ve expected some sort of goose chase when he arrived at the kitchen to see nobody. Stuck to the doorframe was a sticky note telling him to go find Zenyatta. After pacing the entire base and then some with two pillows and a blanket in tow, he finally found the omnic monk meditating in the gardens with Bastion. Where they were not ten minutes prior.

The little punk was going to be the death of him.

Thankfully, Zenyatta was kind enough to send McCree in the right direction with the addition of a rose to make up for the inconvenience.

“Genji told me he was going to be out by the cliffside, near the communications tower,” Zenyatta hums as he extended his arm out. Seated atop his index was Ganymede, who had a beautiful rose clasped in her beak. McCree had to poke and pester the little gal a few times before she released it with an indignant squawk and flew off. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , McCree spots Genji exactly where he should be. He had long since set down a couple of bedsheets as a cushion from the earth, and appeared to be picking the wildflowers in the spare time he had. The crash of the waves must’ve drowned out the jingle of his spurs, as Genji jumped when a pillow graced his back after McCree went to toss them behind him.

“Oh shoot- my bad,” he says sheepishly, biting at the butt of his cigar nervously as if Genji would do anything but shrug it off as a minor offense.

“Sit,” Genji says as a form of welcome, leaning out to pat the space in front of him. “Sweatpants and cowboy boots?” he giggled as McCree blushed and mumbled something under his breath. Discarding his odd footwear and his socks, he gratefully accepted the spot in Genji’s arms. Immediately, Genji was talking to fill the space (like McCree hadn’t planned to do so already).

“I have never heard about your family,” McCree shoots him a look from beneath him, to which Genji had to chuckle, “Not to scare you, I am simply curious. It is just that my family is well known around here.”

“Well,’ McCree mumbled unsurely, “I didn’t always have th’ nicest place growin’ up.” Genji nodded along, slender fingers weaving their way into the wild mess of his hair. Cradled in the dip of his lap, Genji had free reign to the gunslinger’s hair and used it to their benefit. From many years of a brother with long hair, a ponytail was no problem.

“I hope it was not all bad.”

“Aw, it wasn’t,” McCree chuckled, “I wasn’t an only child. I had two sisters an’ two- no, three brothers. There was bound to be some fun with that many lil’ uns.” His cigar was pinched between his teeth, being juggled between the corners of his mouth. 

“And I believe you are the oldest?”

“Yep, had a whole lot of babysittin’ experience by the third punk,” McCree plucks the cigar from his lips to tap the ashes off into the grass, mindful of the pile of flowers Genji had built up.

“I’m ‘bout seven years older than my sis,” McCree says, “and she wasn’t all too happy when I got to sit in the front seat.” Genji grinned as he threaded the stem of a chamomile flower into the pulled back hair.

“But that was, uh… before.” McCree adjusted in his lap, resting more into his stomach and stilling so Genji could weave the last couple of flowers into the messy ponytail.

“Before?”

“Yeah. Before…” he feels McCree’s chest expand against him as he takes a deep breath, “Before my pa lost his marbles.” Reaching in front of him, Genji takes his fist resting on his stomach and pries it open.

“Do not dwell on it, Jesse.”

“Hard not to.”

“I know.” Genji presses a large chamomile into his palm, feverishly warm from being so tense. “My family was not the greatest either,” he says softly, tracing the petals of the little gift. McCree sighs and watches as the other man shows him his other palm. There lays a crushed flower, a petal or two dislodged as he shows if off. McCree was painfully aware of the life Genji had grown into and long rejected, and the consequences it had. The sheer amount of pain that was rought upon Genji for enjoying his youth was staggering.

In the golden days, it was nigh impossible to imagine what the man that had the intent on releasing the pure hatred in his heart on his family was just a year prior to washing up in the recruits. Then, McCree knew next to nothing about the life of the Shimada heir save for that he got it  _ bad _ . And that was a vast understatement for an orginaztion built up of hardasses and criminals. Hardly ever saw him outside of the medical bay or the training rooms, his social appetite never there. Even if he did happen upon the younger man when he was in a more stable mood, their interactions were kept brief and professional- grousing about the food or about the things the commanders would put them through.

McCree startles when he sees the feathery soft tips of ink black hair dip lower to reveal Genji’s even soft eyes. The dying sun filtered through his hair and embellished McCree’s cheeks with a lovely shade of orange.

“You are thinking too much,” he says with a lilt born of deep concern. Then he smiles, toothy and ever so crooked; just enough to make him all the more handsome, “This is supposed to be our date.”

“I know sugar,” McCree says after a beat, the tension easing from his body when Genji’s hand comfortingly traces the lines in the flannel over his shoulder. McCree wriggles out of his grasp like an earthworm, all inelegance and swears, until he was able to brace his arms on Genji’s thighs. His eyes gave a silent command, and he laid onto his back; arms open and waiting for the gunslinger to crawl his way up. Once they were nose to nose, Genji huffs and pushed the gunslinger off.

“You’re heavy,” he points out quite blatantly, rolling his eyes when McCree whines like it hurt. Instead, he pulls close once more and opts to rest chest to chest, on their sides as to make sure Genji would be able to breathe if and when they drift off to sleep. It doesn’t look like a good night for stargazing, as there were heavy clouds drifting in from the west already obscuring their view of the sunset.

“I bet you snore.”

“You can’t bet on things you already know.”

“I bet you’re a cuddler.”

“You got me there, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, taking me forever but i'm really proud of this chapter (mainly for it's length) i kept getting sidetracked and skipping around, but i've already got several more chapters planned out!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The different dynamics of the team/drinking night with the team.

“Guys, c’mon!” Angela fussed, rubbing her temples in frustration, “I’m off-duty.”

“So?” McCree fires back, metal fingers impatiently rapping against the bottle of Yamazaki whiskey. 

“I do not want to pump anyone's stomach.” McCree barked a laugh, smacking the table top in his amusement. Angela sulked, crossing her arms as she leaned into Fareeha, who gave her shoulder a comforting pat; all the while glaring mock daggers at McCree. 

“Doc, I'll be fine,” the cowboy assures as he cuddles up to Genji, “it's this one you gotta worry ‘bout.” Now Genji rolled his eyes, giving McCree’s scruffy jaw a good scratch before getting down to business. Reaching for the two shot glasses and the whiskey, he eased into the slot besides McCree with a coy grin.

“We'll see about that, Eastwood.”

“Aw, you hurt me,” McCree pretends to be wounded, clutching his heart when he shoots a ‘subtle’ wink at Genji. He could hear Angela giggle from her side of the room as he batted his lashes and dismissed it with a wave. Fareeha opted to groan and roll her eyes, feigning disgust towards his adoptive family member.

“Not holding back?”

“No way in hell, honeysuckle.” Genji raised an eyebrow and shot a glance towards the exasperated doctor on the other side of the table. Drinking games were not uncommon around the base on the larger get-togethers, but it was a rarity that Genji would ever participate in them. He didn’t really like it as much as he did in his more colorful days of partying and picking up strangers, as he figured he didn’t necessarily need it to have a great time.

The product of his abstinence lead he to be blissfully ignorant of his limitations, and was partly hoping Angela would further her attempts at getting the two away from the game. Instead, she turned to start her own conversation with her girlfriend, most definitely about them as the quick little glances and uproarious laughter from Fareeha indicated.

They slam the shot glasses down in unison, the glasses clinking obnoxiously against the surface of the table and McCree hisses at the sting of the whiskey. Genji raises an eyebrow, his synthetic tongue dull to the bite of the alcohol. The other notices the lack of reaction and grins cheekily, already reaching for the bottle again.

“Don’t feel it?”

“Only a little.”

“That’ll come in handy later,” the cowboy hums, earning a sharp elbow between his ribs that makes him nearly spill the whiskey onto the table.

“You better not be in that mood, tonight,” Genji warns, smile widening all the more as he has to watch McCree size up his drink. When he grimaces and shakes his head vigorously to ward off the ache in his throat, he laughs at the warning.

“Can’t promise ya anything,” he admits, nudging the short glass closer to Genji’s hands. “Can I be in the mood tomorrow?” he tries.

“No, you have to prepare for a mission.” McCree pouts at the rejection as Genji peers down at the shot glass in his hands, “after.” Having been too caught up in their little discussion of the right time for ‘the mood,’ he had neglected to follow suit and take his own shot.

“Alright, alright. This is not a race,” he reminds before he drinks, “it is a mutual contest.” McCree chuckles, easing himself back into his seat with a sigh.

“Probably should’ve eaten something more than a sandwich,” he rumbles, head tilted back as his broad hand came up to massage the column of his throat. Genji scoffs, folding his arms in front of him to rest against as he watches the other curiously.

Bastard was biting his lip again.

“I know you can’t smoke in doors, but you must stop that,” he pesters, already ditching the comfortable position to swat at McCree’s hand. He, in turn, looked affronted and a little confused, the idle habit slipping past his defenses yet again. “Find something else,” Genji suggests, leaning forward to capture McCree’s lips in a kiss. They stay locked together for a good moment, Genji only jerking back at the same instant McCree tried to deepen the kiss. Frowning, he lets his chair tip back into the proper position.

“Fine, no lip bitin’ of anybody here,” McCree says with a splitting grin when he sees Fareeha pull a face at the cheesy line. Genji giggles, rolling his eyes playfully as he reaches for the whiskey.

“Does drinking make you louder?” he asks genuinely, drawing the glasses closer to himself in mock suspicion as he eyeballs the cowboy. McCree cackles, stealing Genji’s shot from him before he has a chance of refilling his.

“Maybe, but I can be pretty loud now,” he reasons, slinging the shot back with a grunt and a wince. It does  _ not _ get easier the more drinks you get.

“Mmn-” Fareeha interrupts around a mouthful of water, “he’s bluffing. He gets louder.” 

“Had to call me out like that,” McCree accuses, copying her as she sticks her tongue out at him. Angela giggles besides her, lightly pushing at her to lead them out of the room.

“I do not want to experience that firsthand,” she says bluntly, finally getting Fareeha by the arm. Genji rolls his eyes at the doctor’s poorly masked displeasure and gives a kind wave to the couple as they move past. Peering over the ridges of his knuckles, Genji steals the bottle away from the cowboy as he finishes his third drink. McCree pouts and lazily bats his hand out to retrieve it when Genji puts it on the floor beside him.

“Jesse, this is not a race.”

“Not makin’ it one.”

“I am having trouble keeping up,” Genji explains, “and that was your third shot.” McCree nods, giving up the chase for the whiskey but instead went for one of his hands to hold. The moment their hands touched, he felt the irritation melt away and returned the warm smile McCree gave him.

“So I might be a l’il tipsy.”

“Of course you are.”

With a grunt, Reinhardt hoists the Bastion unit onto his shoulder, who was beeping and clicking excitedly. Then at the angry grumbling of Torbjorn (having been cut off in his conversation with Bastion), he easily grabbed the dwarf by his shirt collar and placed him next to the omnic. Long since used to that kind of manhandling, he doesn’t say anything but instead picks up where he left off about the bird house. Opposite of him, Zarya rises from where she was knelt, now holding Satya and Mei on both of her biceps. She gave a victorious whoop and playfully bounced the women, delighting in the startled yelps she got.

“Aleksandra!” Satya gasped, holding onto the Russian’s forearm as a precaution. Mei, on the other hand, giggled and patted her bicep admirably.

On the couch, Hana and Lucio were cuddled next to each other and playing an older retro racing game. Ganymede, in the absence of her handler, had taken to sitting on the controller in Hana’s hand. Despite the disadvantage and out of kindness in her heart, she didn’t move the little bird. Sprawled out in the beanbag besides the couch was Zenyatta, observing the screen before him for any tricks he could take away.

This is what Overwatch had become. A big family gathering that goes beyond tests of everyday stress and onto the battlefield. And even in some places, there was more than just a familial bond, Genji smiles at the thought of it. He was quite familiar with a lot of the relationships that have come and gone through the years. Having taken to vacating the kitchen in favor of the other guests, they stand by the door to watch the whole room mingling with each other. 

In the corner of his eye, he catches McCree saying something to Junkrat. They have been chattering about engineering and the process of being self-taught when Junkrat inched closer to hear the cowboy better. Not hunched over, the kid was  _ tall- _ easily a head taller than both of the agents.

“Say, think I can ever get a look at your leg?” McCree drawls, tipping his glass as he points down at the prosthetic, “Want to get… familiar with that kind of prosthetics, y’know?” Junkrat flushes just a little pink, and Genji rolls his eyes at his boyfriend.  _ Ever the smooth talker. _ They’ve covered the area over McCree’s overactive libido and already laid out the rules, but he had completely forgotten about getting drunk in their discussion. He can mention it tomorrow over some breakfast if McCree feels like getting up with a hangover.

“Sure, mate!” Junkrat grins, his golden canine catching over his bottom lip, “wantta look at anythin’ else while y’er down there?” McCree chuckles, willingly letting himself get boxed in by the junker. He takes a drink of his whiskey and turns away with a blush, whatever Junkrat was saying being drowned out by his partner.

Like a trained dog, Junkrat looked up from where he was cornering the cowboy and over to Roadhog, who had set the infamous hook onto the table top. The rattling of the chain did little to affect the other agents, but certainly caught Junkrat’s attention. With a huff, Junkrat straightened up and made a move to leave McCree alone- but not before winking and a giving his scruffy jaw a playful scratch.

Watching this, Genji couldn’t help but smile when he made his way back over. He had completely forgotten about getting Genji’s drink, but it was getting to that point in the night where it wouldn’t matter.

“How’d it go over there?” he asks, waiting for McCree to finish his whiskey. The cowboy hummed through the glass, swallowing the last of the liquid before he even started to think about the answer.

“Roadhog’s got ‘em on a leash,” McCree admits, “literally.” He glances over to the junkers and finds that the hook is back where it belongs and Junkrat was smiling up at Roadhog. “I don’t know his rules,” he grumbles, going to take a drink only to remember that the glass was empty. He huffs and Genji grins at his partner’s indecisiveness to go back over there and get another shot or not.

Having a loose hold on McCree’s hip, he was busy keeping him upright when he lurched forward to accept Zenyatta’s outstretched hand. Good lord, the man has to be occupied with something or another. He must’ve been zoning out for long enough watching his older brother talk to the even older strike commander after his eyes drifted over to the kitchen.

The two were leaning against the kitchen counter, enjoying a few drinks themselves. Hanzo had miraculously gotten the soldier to remove his viser to indulge in a few drinks- even got him to chuckle a few times at something he would say.  _ It’s probably the alcohol, _ he thinks glumly. He know’s Soldier:76 from the better days and laughter was not in vocabulary nor in muscle memory.

The cowboy in his grip tried to pull away, the cyborg instinctively reining him back in. He was going to get a proper answer before he turned him loose into the crowd.

“Jus’ wanna dance, ‘s all.” Genji considers it for a moment as he didn’t hear the initial offer, perhaps longer than he should’ve as even Zenyatta curiously cocks his head, a little concerned that Genji would restrict the drunken cowboy.

“Alright,” he hardly gets out before McCree has slipped away from him. McCree grasps the monk’s hand carefully like he's afraid of his own strength when it's offered to him. 

“Reinhardt could give ya a li’l more help but,” he clicks his tongue and whistles, “he’d be a hair too tall for all of us.” Zenyatta chuckles rather daintily and nods in understanding before drawing his head back in pleasant surprise. McCree drops an arm over his shoulder rather than making the shorter of the two do so after guiding Zenyatta’s hand to the cowboy’s hip. Having been briefly exposed to this style of dancing before, Zenyatta comes to realize that this is nothing like the movies he has seen.

They manage a slow pace for a couple seconds before McCree fumbles, nearly falling as he trips over his own feet. Zenyatta couldn’t stifle his laugh, and helped him stabilize himself.

“No more drinks.”

“Aw c’mon, Zen.” 

“No. You have had enough,” he says as he gently steps away, “may we dance another night?”

“It’d be my honor,” McCree drawls, stealing his hand back to deliver a kiss to the his wrist before finally letting the monk go into the crowd.

“McCree, you should stop while you’re ahead,” Genji chides, “you are going to seduce the whole base at this rate.” McCree hums distractedly, staring at the sweatpants the cyborg was wearing and the faint glow beneath them. Genji was planning on ignoring the looking until he felt the other tug at the waistband. A little spooked by the touch, he jumps and glances up for any clues but just finds McCree with a confused look.

“How come ya don’t wear nothin’ on missions but ya do here?” Genji relaxes minutely but still angles his hips away from the curious fingers.

“As Hanzo covers his shoulder around here, it is easier without any fabric disrupting our movements,” he explains, “and being made of segmented metal, moving around a lot gets the cloth stuck in weird places.” He gestures to the juncture of his bicep where armor met synthetic flesh as an example. McCree nods understandingly and jerks to the side when Angela appears beside him. She doesn’t openly wince but her eyes give her away as she evaluates the cowboy.

“Goodness, how much have you had?” she asks, sounding irked. She carefully pries the glass from his grip as he glances at Genji for some backup.

“Oh uh...” Genji stutters as he straightens, “Enough. I was not keeping track.” 

“Clearly,” she scoffs as she steps towards Genji. She lowers her voice to a whisper, “Is everything alright? McCree doesn’t usually get this drunk.”

“M-hm,” he reassures, casting a look over her shoulder to the bewildered gunslinger, “I believe it is pre-mission stress.” Angela nods knowingly, and clutches the glass to her person.

“I understand. Take care of him for me, alright?” she says softly, giving him a pat on the shoulder before slipping away to the kitchen. He watches her back for a moment as she stops a moment to say something to Soldier:76. It looks like a sterner iteration of what she just got done asking them as Soldier scoffs and begrudgingly hands his glass over. Hanzo abstains from that however, and acts like she wasn’t even there when they go back to talking.

“Everythin’ okay?” McCree rumbles over his shoulder, trying to follow his gaze to whatever he was looking at. Genji slowly nods and forces his gaze away from the duo.

“Yes, Angela was simply wondering when we would retire.”

“Well, we can do that now if y’er wantin’,” he offers, already stepping in the direction of the hallway. Genji dips his head in affirmation and takes his hand in his to lead them out of the room. Surprisingly, for someone as drunk as he was McCree held himself together and managed to walk back to his quarters without an accident. However, a certain potted plant caught the short end of the stick when he had to make an emergency stop.

Getting to his quarters, Athena had to visually recognize them as McCree couldn’t get the passcode in correctly. Figuring he was that messed up, Genji eased him onto the bed and startred to fumble with his clothes.

“Mmm. Genji,” McCree drawls out after a couple moments of silence, his syllables slurring together. Genji spares him a glance as he continues to unbutton the heavy flannel McCree always seemed to wear. A hangover is one thing, but waking up sweating half your body weight away as well could kill a man.

“Yes?”

“Y’er undressin’ me.” Genji faltered, his fingers fumbling with the last two buttons. Of course, he was. McCree was so drunk off his ass he was almost incapable of doing it himself.

“Yes,” he stated quite blandly, pushing the flannel from his shoulders when McCree took ahold of Genji’s waist and tugged him closer. He grinned, sloppy and lopsided, when Genji didn’t resist the intimate advances.

Emboldened by such, McCree kissed his way up the cyborg’s unarmored stomach to meet him. Now able to get a good look at the smitten cowboy, Genji could see how unfocused and all over the place his eyes were, swimming from one point to the next.

“Jesse,” Genji cleared his throat after a long moment, “nothing further.” McCree pouted but didn’t attempt to protest the order as he pushed their mouths together once more.

There was no such battle for dominance, the gunslinger willingly letting his person be pulled this way and that as the flannel was fought from his shoulders. Deeming it a fitting distraction, he tried his best to wrangle the offending clothing off without much harm. Genji broke away with the flannel in hand, huffing dramatically when McCree whined and sluggishly shot his arms out to grab him again.

“Nothing further,” he persists, creating just enough space between the two of them to get the point across- standing by his dresser a few feet away, to be exact. “You need to sleep,” he states as he locates the flannel to the dirty hamper, watching McCree’s face fall before adding on, “but when you get back from the mission, I will not stop your advances.” The cowboy lights up at that in an instant, Genji snickering under his breath as he takes a few cautious steps towards the bed again. As if the facial journey of his wasn’t enough already, McCree’s brows knitted together in confusion as he watches Genji clamber onto the bed beside him.

“Thought ya said nothin’ tonight?” he asks in a murmur, letting his body get top-heavy and fall backwards to intercept Genji’s path to the pillows. The cyborg frowns and almost considers smothering McCree’s face with his upper body when he sits up on his own.

“I am tired,” he goes on to explain, “and I want to sleep.” He emphasizes the final word with a few rather aggressive pats to the pillow before him. McCree nods slowly as it processes, the final nail in the metaphorical cock-blocking coffin before he swings his legs off the edge.

“Gotcha, gotcha,” he mumbles, struggling to unfasten the clasps of his belt and shuck his socks and jeans off in one sweep in his haste. Genji had already gotten comfortable and was close enough to passing out when McCree finally snuggled him next to him, his cold hands finding their way to his chest.

“Y’er cute.”

“Hush,” Genji scolds lightly, pulling the covers back over them.

“Well, it’s true,” McCree hums, nuzzling against his neck like a makeshift pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh my god i'm sorry it took so long to update but it's lengthy and hopefully makes up for it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the obvious is a little harder to say. And sometimes, you shouldn't say it.

Lights filter through the curtains, dappled shadows  across the sheets like sunshine through leaves. It was one of those peaceful moments he had to relish, knowing that a hectic life may have a lot to offer- even if it robbed him of beauty like this. The warmth of his partner cradling his body, the sheets clinging to both of them, the soothing lull of the waves outside their window almost made him drift back to sleep.

If it wasn’t for the grinding migraine and the awful sick feeling settling like a stone in his gut. As carefully as he could, he twists in Genji’s grasp and winces at the disturbed groan he gets. Settling back on his side, now facing the other, he grimaces. His cheeks are flushed and he looks tired even when asleep. Rough night.

“Ah, shoot,” McCree murmurs even before he can stop himself, knowing Genji would wake. True enough, Genji twitches and draws in a deep, deep breath and  _ stretches _ , just like a cat would. Settling back in, he hums inquisitively and blinks the sleep from his eyes. “Did I do anythin’?” he blurts out, knowing that he is probably just confusing his darling even more. Genji squints at the light shining through the blinds to see his boyfriend, trying hard to put two and two together and figure out what the hell he’s talking about so early.

“Oh!” he laughs- voice just a touch raspy and rough, the tension he was holding in his body escaping as he relaxes into the bedding, “no, you have not done anything.” McCree lets out a sigh of relief and adoration, feeling like the luckiest man in the world to experience this side of his boyfriend; soft and caring, not at all the hardass he was years prior. 

Yet after the initial feeling of fucking up passes, he starts to feel fucked up. His head is pounding, and he buries his face in the pillow to avoid the now agonizing light. Genji takes pity on him, offering a little piece of solace by rubbing up and down McCree’s back. He appreciates it, and finds enough strength to lift his face from the pillow.

“Lemme guess,” he sighs as he lets Genji pulls himself up before continuing, “got shitfaced drunk?” He only nods in confirmation, a simper tugging at his lips when his head hits the pillow once more. “‘Course I did,” he grumbled, tone muffled by the fabric yet not enough to hide the sheepish- even guilty lilt to his words.

“No worries,” Genji assures, carding his fingers through the wavy strands of his hat hair, “you have not scared me off yet.” The cowboy gives a shamefaced grin and swings his legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Promise I didn’t do anything?”

“Promise.” McCree grins and ruffles the little tuft of hair that sticks this way and that out of his helmet.

“Good, I’m needin’ somethin’ to eat,” he announces and finally clambers over to their dresser. Genji giggles and reclines on the bed, refusing to move from the swath of blankets and the warmth radiating from them. Shooting a knowing look back, he slips into a pair of sweats and joins Genji back on the bed. “Get up,” he urges, getting his hopes up when Genji shimmies about and pushes himself upright. But he still remains glued to the bed.

“Carry me.”

“Honey.”

 

When they got to the kitchen (McCree caving and carrying Genji bridal style through the halls), it seems everyone has already gotten their fill and left, or took their time and enjoyed the morning to its fullest. Plopping down on a stool before the grand counter, Genji watches McCree make his way over to the couple coffee makers.  _ Coffee first, everything later _ was the first thing he said when Genji asked about this ritual. Quickly he learned that despite common speculation, he loathed black coffee and loves flavored creamers like nothing else. His favorite being pumpkin spice- ordering a whole year’s worth the moment they hit the market in September. Genji himself stuck to what he knew best; some water in a kettle and fresh tea leaves from their own personal tree he tends to in the gardens. Lena has been begging to get a tip or a recipe from him, seeming as she manages to  _ burn _ her own tea every time.

There were a scarce number of agents milling around. Lena had finally wandered off in search of Ana (most likely to bug some tips out of her) and left Genji with his brother. He didn’t seem too bad of shape, a few hairs gone awry in his bun and his eyes barely keeping themselves open for half their conversation- but other than the bone-deep exhaustion that seems to haunt him, he seemed fine. 

Every time Genji would steal a glance at the machines, it seemed like McCree would find another person to chat with. Fareeha and Angela had occupied him a grand total of three minutes before Angela disappeared with an entire pot of coffee and Fareeha had to save her from her caffeine addiction. Then Lena blinked over to complain about Genji keeping the secrets of the art of tea from her before shooting off without so much as a word from the cowboy. Baffled at the young agent’s energy, he finds comfort in Zenyatta’s interest in the creation of coffee and how he prepares it. Seems to be a busy day for him, he seems to preen under all the attention thrown his way.

_ That smile looks good on him _ , Genji muses. It was a very specific smile, one for the public and drastically different from the soft, abash one he reserved just for him. It just yelled  _ charming _ and  _ clever _ to whomever he would grace with it. Even the grouchier agents seemed to take to it, Jack and Ana separately seeking out that award-winning smile after a tizzy. 

His silent fawning doesn’t last long after he takes a seat beside his brother. Hanzo must have a lot on his mind as every sentence would end clipped and short. Genji opens his mouth to say something after he lets him take a drink of tea before a hand clapped over his shoulder and startled him.

“Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to spook ya,” he apologizes, that smile of his softening at the edges as he ducks and gives him a quick peck. Taking the seat beside the two brothers, McCree turns back to help Zenyatta onto the stool to continue his little cooking lesson. By the time Genji turns back to Hanzo, he couldn’t remember a lick of what he wanted to say.

“The cowboy? Really?” the archer observes from his mug of hot tea, cutting through his brother’s thoughts. Genji goes stock-still and draws in an even breath, taunt as a bow. He was not in the mood for Hanzo’s asinine attempt at a conversation, especially today. McCree was prepping for his week long mission away in the states.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Hanzo takes a long sip of his drink before humming in a manner of disappointment, “You could’ve done better.” Genji was affronted at the audacity of his brother, something he had long gotten used to. Today was different as he had chosen to speak his mind on the day that he knew Genji would be most upset.

“And what is your idea of better?” Genji asks almost politely, “A man that still lives in the delusions of his past?” Hanzo gets his turn to go silent, feeling his hardened glare from over the rim of his mug. "A man that won't offer you the time of day until you get him drunk?"

"You are no better off," Hanzo was seething, slamming the glass down hard enough to splinter the wood beneath his hands (luckily cradling the bottom of the glass). The sound had drawn both Zenyatta and McCree’s attention to the brothers.

"Hm," Genji considers, tapping his finger along the ridges of McCree's prosthetic idly, "a man that is cowardly enough to hide behind a visor because he is scared to face the consequences of his actions? Maybe so. He seems fitting for you, brother."

“This is a new low.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do,” Genji finally meets Hanzo’s eyes dead-on simply to sneer at him, “kill me?” Hanzo finally took the hint and shut up with a sullen look. McCree’s jaw went slack as he trailed off on his thoughts with Zenyatta, who was (as well as he can convey with what he has) as equally shocked. Within a couple of seconds, Hanzo had removed himself from the kitchen. Genji calmly takes a sip of his own tea when McCree squeezes his hand to catch his attention.

“Sugar, ya didn’t have to go on doin’ that for me,” the gunslinger chuckled, a blush creeping across his face.

“I know, it was for me,” Genji corrects with a grin, McCree’s smile widening even more. Zenyatta hummed wistfully, glancing at the door.

“However much your brother was out of line, some things are best left unsaid,”  Zenyatta slides out of the stool he was perched upon when Genji sighs and bows his head in a manner of shame.

“I know, Master. I am sorry,” he gets out before he's startled by not McCree’s but Zenyatta’s hand ruffling the hair peeking out from his helmet. The omnic chuckles lightly as he moves to collect Hanzo’s mug.

“I know you are not, but maybe in time you will be,” he says, topping the cup off with more green tea. Genji and McCree both snicker, the gunslinger mumbling something in the other’s ear that made him cuff the hat off his head. Zenyatta watches them both, amused and thoughtful if not reminiscent before he makes a move to exit.

“And it is not I that you should be apologizing to,” he says with a deep hum, “I will be with Hanzo in the gardens.” After the couple was finally granted some time together (and hopefully without any more interruptions) McCree set the hat besides their intertwined hands and just takes a moment to bask in the others company.

Not uncommon was it that they were together, if anything it was the opposite that was true. That didn’t stop McCree from relishing every moment he was with him, and every time he could just be there and witness him. The way the light would catch on the metal plating of his body and how his muscles shifted under his synthetic skin when he would stretch early in the morning, not unlike a cat would. How the afternoons together would go spent laying on the cliffside facing the sun and basking in it’s warmth. The way Genji’s freckles would really pop even through all the scar tissue after sitting in the sun for just a little while.

“I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya somethin’, sugarplum.” Genji looks up from where he was memorizing all the crooks and nannies of his prosthetic hand. McCree stops in his tracks when he’s greeted with the beautiful sight of the sun catching in the dark pools of Genji’s eyes. They dance across McCree’s face, flickering from eye to eye before naturally settling over his right. The longer he stares, the wider the cyborg’s smile gets.

“You are staring, Jesse,” Genji giggled and used his free hand to scratch at his jaw in adoration.  McCree simpers and presses the hand to his jaw, making a mental note to trim up when some stray hairs stick to his joints.

“Sorry, pumpkin. I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya somethin’,” he admits with a deep sigh. He felt like he was having kittens with how strung up he was about such a simple thing, and he knows how far he has overthought this. Truth be told, he has no idea how long Genji has planned to stay committed, and he feels like dropping the L-word would be a total bombshell in their relationship.

Genji tilts his head curiously, a tic he does not seem to realize he has. He has sobered up a bit, becoming hyper-aware of the supposed ‘gravity’ of this situation. McCree almost wishes he didn’t look at him with such adoration and care.

“I love ya, sugar.”

Genji blinks out of his daze, completely still for a mere moment before he was chuckling. Confused and a little disheartened, McCree settles back in his stool in apprehensive silence as Genji takes a sip of his tea. His reactions aren’t the easiest to read even after years; angry for the first five and wearing a visor for the last two. Only this year has he gotten accustomed to the silly expressions he makes when he often forgets he had left his visor off.

“You were nervous about saying that, weren’t you?” He nods silently and fiddles with the hem of his hat. He distracts himself with dipping along the notches and holes where if he wasn’t quick enough, he wouldn’t have been here. A gentle yet firm hand settles over his, stealing the hat and setting it on the counter. Now he’s looking at him. He’s smiling, hard enough to crinkle his eyes yet soft enough to show how genuine it was. “It reminds me of the cliffside,” he starts, taking McCree’s hand into his, “when I asked you out.”

“You were real nervous,” he laughs frenetically, grateful for the hand to hold. Genji nods, thumb tracing the veins that popped after years of hard work.

“I knew then that I loved you,” he says in a whisper, “and I know that I do now.” The cowboy ducks his head, getting a little weepy-eyed when Genji places a little kiss on his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have a laptop this has been written all on school computers QwQ


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji revisits past demons and McCree meets his own.

The sterile metal is frigid even to the plating of Genji’s exterior. The cold seeps down to the bones, but politely declines the lab coat Angela offers him when she notices him shudder. He is idling in her medical bay as if it was the days of Overwatch, watching her with beady, red eyes like a hawk trapped in a songbird’s cage. Back then, his thinly veiled disdain for her did little to perturb her, and she had quickly gotten accustomed to ignoring the brooding animal that milled around her.

Now, she glances at him every five or so minutes. There is no more tension between the two, and the entire atmosphere Genji brought about has completed shifted in two years time. Quick, hurried looks before returning her gaze to the joints of Junkrat’s prosthetic. The cold stare she would return years ago was now covered by concern and sympathy.

She understands the turmoil that missions bring, both being a part of them  _ and _ being left out. Seeing a dear friend sit there in muted agony was stress upon stress. The team has not been communicating all day, meaning that something was happening or that Athena detected a breach in the secure channels. Even for the ones without lovers on the field, friends and family were on the line.

Her wife is out as well, and the unease still boils deep within her like it has for many, many years. Never once has she doubted her abilities; trusting each other with their lives on the battlefield, they were most likely the most organic and deadly duo. Yet despite the seniority and experience of Fareeha, Angela still frets and fusses like a mother hen the moment the carrier disappears over the horizon. When it’s brought up, she can talk for hours about her ‘Rocket Queen,’ talking about stories from years ago or something that happened just before the mission. Genji is understanding, knows that she is trying desperately to fill the space where Fareeha can’t.

Torbjorn has just left to go grab his toolbox despite the Junker’s insistence that he could maintain his own limbs. Junkrat is startlingly quiet after the engineer disappears as Angela mumbles and paces about aimlessly. In fact, he is so quiet, the doctor almost asked him if anything was happening between him and his partner. Junkrat says he’s just reminiscing, that the talk about their lovers heading off into battle was making him think about how he met Roadhog. He’s soft spoken at times like these, even if to him it’s struggling to keep it down to an inside volume. His fingers drum against the counter as he glances at the door, just the softest blush peeking through the layers of grime and dirt coating his face. 

It disappears relatively quickly at the sound of rattling, Torbjorn returning with a hefty tool box. He takes one glance at the three lovestruck fools and grumbles under his breath with a embittered shake of his head. Rather roughly, he grabs for Junkrat’s prosthetic and nearly pulls the man over with his disregard. Angela swiftly gives him a light but firm kick in an act of discipline, to which he merely grunts and ignores her. Having never been one for manners, it seems like he’s just never going to change.

A little perturbed, Junkrat doesn’t try to maneuver away from the engineer’s harsh hands and didn’t try to shake the grubby fingers out of the joints of his beloved prosthetic. Each jab makes him flinch, wince, or crinkle his nose in an effort not to snarl at the questionably ‘good-intentioned’ man, the recalibration process going to be anything but pleasant, and he feels like he’s floating off in space the more Torbjorn’s hands fiddle with wires and synthetic nerves. He finds an alternative, eyes glancing about the room a little frantically before they settled on Genji. His brilliant orange eyes are wide, the pupils pinpricks under such pressure and anxiety.

“May I?” he squeaks out, blindly reaching out for Genji’s prosthetic arm. He hesitates, naturally wary of any advancement,  _ especially  _ out of curiosity of his body. Nonetheless, he understands where Junkrat is coming from with the fear of the big metal tables and the professionals stripping you down and getting you to your most vulnerable. A stray thought floats through his head as he extends his arm:  _ McCree would be better suited to calm him down. Their prosthetics are near identical. _

“Yes, but it does not stop at my elbow as yours.”

“I don’t mind, it jus’…” he turns his hand over to look at the soft material of his palm, “helps me.” He traces the synthetic flesh with his hand, a little shaky as he focuses on the simple feel of the padding. Genji recognizes the forced pattern he makes with his thumb, how he uses the pad of his fingers to manipulate the softer mesh to his will. 

It is the same technique that Angela had taught him back when the softest clink of a metal tray would set him off the deep end. Days alone in the medical ward was not the ideal way to treat a trauma patient to his extent, but his extent was almost unheard of, and even then he found he could not be mad for the lack of understanding. Instead, he had found the silence between visits of doctors and nurses to be refreshing. Voices were a nightmare in his wake, the flat tones and empty expressions he received must’ve rubbed off at some point. No compassion, no genuine concern for  _ him _ — not until she showed up.

Angela offered a soft smile and had those lively blue eyes that peeked out from her bangs. She always seemed to enjoy coming in to work and loathed leaving the medical bay at night, often traveling the entire base to find another reason to stay down there. Half of the time, their interactions were kept brief, a smile and a wave as she passed by, always tagging a lead surgeon. The other times where when she was hunkered down beside him, passed out after monitoring his vitals for hours for even the tiniest irregularities. It was not uncommon for him to be the nightly excuse to stay late.

Yet shockingly enough, there wasn’t anything. Angela was a compassionate person by heart, and her nature was motherly and protective— even if all she had gotten in return were harsh, judgemental stares and total silence on the cyborg’s part. None of that meant that she was  _ interested,  _ something that Genji had completely overlooked. Disheartening, humiliating in a sense, but still understandable. He had backed away from the good doctor, left her alone for a while after the incident in her office, tried to push down the revolt he felt towards himself everytime he thought of the quick twinge of fear he saw in her eyes.

That was not the only cause for his self-hatred. Time and time again, he found himself dissatisfied with who he thought he was, who he presented as. Nothing felt right, no amount of clothes, wandering, and the like could mask the bone-deep resentment he felt towards  _ everything.  _ He managed to do it. Got over himself, realized other people had problems themselves. Angela was in a foreign country as well as him, Gabriel had to deal with strenuous missions and recruits, and Jack had to put on a brave face for the press. Lena  _ fell through time, _ and McCree had gotten pulled from out of a notoriously dangerous gang at the ripe of of  _ seventeen. _ Genji’s life seemed pretty cushy up until now in comparison, but they still had a smile on their faces as they passed him in the mess hall and would try to share little jokes with him when they could.

That was the point when it finally sunk in that he was not the playboy he once was, nor the hardass he was trying to be. He was not who he thought he was, and now was the time to reinvent himself. It would prove to be nothing but difficult through the years, starting up from the foundations after coming so far sounded nigh impossible, but all it took one wrong turn to the Nepal monastery and one, lonely transmission for him to finally even out.

Junkrat makes a sound in the back of his throat, trying to grab his attention. He had closed his hand into a loose fist, almost as if he was trying to hold his hand. Genji blinks away the last remaining feelings of reminiscence and steps a little bit closer. A tad cautious of the distance closing between them, Junkrat draws back and throws him an uneasy look before relaxing once more, content. It felt good to help someone else, almost therapeutic; he can understand why Angela always had that smile on her face, even during busy days. 

He lets Junkrat inch near and gingerly rest his forehead against the metal plating of his chest, head turned ever so slightly to hear the mechanic wiring of his insides, coupled with the soft beating of his heart. Genji doesn’t pull away nor lash out like he would have done years ago, but brings his other hand up to sweep his hair aside. Angela gives him an appraising smile, her shoulders dropping as the threat of Junkrat’s panic attack fades away, and Torbjorn tinkers with his malfunctioning prosthetic silently. 

“Yo, guys. Feelin’ kinda lonely without my mech,” Hana whines, the sound of her chewing gum snapping obnoxiously loud. She has her eyes to the sky, watching the fireworks above the city. It was the weekend of a local Dorado festival, the final stop of their escort mission.

“McCree, go pick her up.”

“Got it, location?”

“Uh…” Fareeha scans the streets for any blurb of blue and white, “she is three blocks from you. Take a left and go straight through. Met him halfway, Hana.”

“Aw, you’re making me walk?”

McCree snickers and rolls his eyes to the empty street, “Oh hush, now. I’ll be right over.”

“Lena, how’s it going down there?”

“Great! She’s loving it.” Lena reports, head tilted away from Efi in a polite gesture. It went unnoticed however, as Efi was too caught up in the colorful lights and pinatas to pay her any mind.

Fareeha is airborne, watching her team carefully. The parade was moving right along, through the streets as one with Lena and Efi in tow. Orisa was not present, safe and resting in the hotel they had taken temporary residence in. Lena point at each thing that caught her eye, explaining what they were to the best of her abilities. She has been in Dorado during this festival only once before, years before when Reyes finally caved and gave McCree some vacation time. Things haven’t changed in the slightest; the same songs were played, the same signs came up, and the same people still smiled throughout the passage of time like a beacon of solidarity. 

When she wasn’t explaining the happenings of the city, she was eyeing the street corners behind and the alleys bracketing them. Fareeha had reported a dark figure looming through the alleyways just a little over an hour ago, and Lena knew something wasn’t quite right. Efi does not seem to know she was in danger, or didn’t express that it bothered her in the slightest; all smiles and bright, curious eyes. She turns to ask a question, but Lena’s head is still dipped away from her, speaking quietly into her com.

“Is something the matter?”

“Oh-” Lena jumps, offering an uneasy smile, “of course not! I’m just getting tired and I’m sure you are too.” With a pinch of her brows, Efi’s lips draw into a straight line, and she taps her wrist watch to life.

“I’m waking Orisa.”

“Luv, we got this,” she assures, a hand gently guiding her along through a corner street, cleared by Fareeha. “That said, you are not staying out past curfew.” Efi giggles, hurrying her pace for the hotel.

“I’ve reached Hana,” he grunts as he crouches down, letting the smaller agent hop onto his shoulders like a kid. She hooks her feet beneath his arms and gives his shoulder a rough pat as a signal to start running. Her mech has not arrived yet despite the immediate threat at hand. They need someplace open ASAP, and the streets are too crowded with the festival to even begin to think about calling down the one ton mech. Their only bet is a rooftop, and Fareeha had just alerted him to a nearby apartment complex with a fire escape in the alley.

Stopping at the entrance of the alley, he pokes his head out. Last thing he wanted was to go sprinting through a civilian crowd with an international celebrity on his shoulders. The parade has marched on, the very tail end of the group three blocks down and well out of earshot, making it safe for him to dash across the open street. One hand clasped atop her thigh to steady her, the other offers the revolver. Just in case.

“Can ya shoot a revolver?” he pants, nearly catching the corner of a building after a callout from above, “It’s got a kick!”

“Why do I need this?” she asks, turning it over in her hands.

“We don’t have an exact location on the Reaper, but can you shoot it?” Hana scoffs, flipping the hair from her shoulder with a sharp flick of her wrist before she was spinning the cylinder. He can hear the hammer of the revolver as loud as thunder in his ears. Aiming for a street sign halfway down the alleyway, she pulls the trigger yet remains steady and upright despite the sharp crack and the metallic clang of the sign meeting its maker. He feels her whole body jolt even from his grip on her thighs, pinning her to his shoulders. She throws a fist in the air with a bellow of laughter.

“Psh-! So easy!” she cheers and presses her knuckles against his temple playfully, “I think you’re forgetting who  _ almost _ beat Reinhardt in an arm wrestling competition!” The gesture is light-hearted, and McCree manages a smile despite the rush of adrenaline wearing through his nerves.

“ _ So-rry, _ Princess!” he barks through his laughter. He spots the fire escape not too far along in the next alley over, and he darts for it. Hana needs a wide, open space for her mech to properly call in, and the building fit the criteria.  “I’m gonna let you off here before any fightin’ happens, l’il missy-”

“Rude-”

“ _ Hana. _ ”

“Alright, cowboy,” she laughs, the adrenaline making her giddy, “we got a bad guy to catch!”

“Not ‘we,’” he corrects gruffly, “ _ I _ have a bad guy to catch.  _ You _ have a mech to call.”

“Right, right. My bad,” she smiled sheepishly and was already steadying her arm to take a shot at the ladder’s release. She manages to knick the small release latch and the fire escape clatters down to Earth. Pushing the revolver into his hand, she is steadying a foot on his shoulder and gives him a friendly pat on his Stetson. It feels as though it was supposed to be reassuring in some way, but he couldn’t be too certain before she was gone.

As agile and graceful as a feline, she lunges for the ladder and catches the rungs. Without so much as a hitch in her rhythm, she was hauling herself up the ladder single-handedly and speaking into her wrist console to disclose the location to receive her mech. Ensuring that she was safely up the ladder and onto the rooftop, he picks up his slack. 

With a few, running strides, he rounds the corner and enters the barren street only to nearly trip over his own two feet. The candles were lit around the fountain, and the vibrant, faux pinatas mocked him from their clothesline heavens. A startling juxtaposition between the tall, dark figure and the lively calls of children echoing throughout the city as the parade moved along. The figure, facing away from McCree and currently paying him no mind, scuffs his foot against the ground with force and for a second he doesn’t see the destroyed pinata beneath him. The overwhelming darkness almost absorbs the color of the party favor, the absolute nothingness a black hole for anything around.

Fareeha doesn’t say anything; there is nothing but static in his earpiece. When the coms had died out, he hadn’t noticed. Hana was too busy chattering his ear off to have noticed it. Now, he is surrounded by crippling silence was the dark figure slowly peers over his shoulder, and he can feel his heart stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting somewhere, slowly but getting somewhere.
> 
> tumblr @peachhflowers


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> missions can be stressful on the body and soul regardless, but something seems a little off about McCree when he returns home.

The brisk air of Autumn forced a shiver from Genji, the heavy blanket catching a draft despite how close he snuggled the fabric to his person. Even the warmth of the crusader seeping through the wool wasn’t enough to negate the cold of the seasons’ change.

“Jesse is coming home today as safe as ever, Genji,” Reinhardt murmurs just loud enough to be heard over the crash of the early morning waves, “so why are you upset?” Genji didn’t offer any other explanation save for the listless shrug that got lost in the blanket. The older gentleman sighed yet accepted it for what it was.

Reinhardt had joined Genji once he caught sight of him weathering the wait by himself. Upon sitting beside the smaller man, he could sense that Genji was not quite in the mood for a nice chat, but offered to mend any ill will brought about by the disruption with a heavy cloak from his own arsenal. It was a welcome distraction when Angela made an appearance to grant them both with hot tea, having seen them from between the kitchen’s jalousie. Fortunately, she didn’t stick around long after chastising the two of them about colds and the like, as she had her own plans for the day. 

Now, cross legged and perched upon Reinhardt’s knee, he enjoys the comforting press of the large palm supporting him in his rather precarious choice of seating. From time to time, the cyborg would begin to nod off when Reinhardt would catch him from a nasty fall off the tall crates Genji had chosen to accommodate their stay.

“Hey, are you alright?” a rumbling voice called from the loading dock doors. Genji turned to greet the scientist, granting him a meek smile. Winston frowned and scratched his nose when he registered the deeply set bags under those troubled eyes.

“‘Fraid not,” he answered to his own query with a huff before lumbering over to them. Reinhardt politely dipped his head in greeting, shifting his legs apart just a tad bit to ensure he doesn’t accidentally kick Winston as he takes a seat with his back against the crate.

“Kleiner Drache, you can't go silent whenever he is gone,” Reinhardt scolds as he gives a good-natured pat on Genji’s back for emphasis. The cyborg acknowledges it with a little tilt to shoot an exhausted glance up at him, but nothing else.

“Athena told me you two were out here, I was uh- concerned!” Winston exclaims after finding the proper word, toning it down just a bit out of embarrassment, “but everything is fine, I see.” Genji hums idly as he tips forward (much to Reinhardt’s displeasure) to scratch at the fluff on Winston’s head. The scientist pulls a face, nose scrunching up as he opens his mouth to say something more on the topic before he completely forgot. 

“I just wanted to, uh…” Chuckling to himself, Genji abandoned his mug to balance on Reinhardt’s opposite knee. Reinhardt, being turned to a circus balancing act of a cyborg and glass cups, relocates it off to the side; propping his chin atop his palm in place of the mug as he watched the shenanigans.

“Athena said,” Winston clears his throat after ducking away from the reaching hands, “ETA is five minutes, but now it's-”

“Why didn't you say so?!” Genji all but squeals in excitement. Winston titters and pushes his glasses up when Reinhardt barks out a laugh at the cyborg’s newfound enthusiasm.

“Well, I didn't get the chance before! But you see, that was a few minutes ago, so I’m certainly off…” Winston admits, twiddling his thumbs as he leans back to look at the duo above him. Blanket long discarded from his shoulders, Genji was practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement. Reinhardt only shakes his head at his friend’s reckless excitement, easing the blanket back over him and then helping him to his feet by extending his arm out to use as leverage.

Of course, the blanket refused to stay around Genji’s shoulders any longer as he picked up the near-silent drone of the transport ship in the distance grow heavier and more impending by the second. In any other circumstance, watching the transport ship touch down on the concrete landing pad would’ve been uneventful at best. But just hearing the mechanical sounds of the engine shifting gears and the landing equipment show themselves from their hidden compartments sent a wave of anticipation through him.

Hana is the first to tromp down the ramp in her mech, her party lights flashing wildly as she whoops. “Got another party member!” she declares with a fist pump, Efi perched atop the hood of her mech with a giant smile. The engineer pats the metal before her when she gasps like she has been offended in some way.

“Quiet! I was supposed to be a surprise,” the smaller girl giggles, turning back to watch Orisa take a few shaky steps out of the dropship. She seems to be hesitant and confused at the change of scenery, but eases herself down the ramp in pursuit of the bubblegum pink mech in front of her.

“It is quite different here,” Orisa murmurs in awe, taking in the cliffside and the crashing waves after allowing her stride to slow. Regardless of the previous tension, she gallops ahead at the call of Efi. Next, Lena blinks in and out of the ship rapidly as she gathers all of Efi’s belongings in armfuls. She stops when she sees the trio sitting out on the crates, dashing forward to capture Winston in a big bear hug that takes his breath away with the tiny woman’s strength.

“I missed you, big guy! I got a lot to tell ya!” she assures with a beam before she’s off again. Side by side, Fareeha and McCree both emerge with everyone else’s luggage from the week long haul. They were grinning and laughing as the couple walked towards the pile of personal carriers that Lena had accumulated.

“Easy, don’t hurt yourself,” Reinhardt gently reminds, watching as Genji basically rears himself up to go after McCree. The sound of the crusader’s voice made the cowboy look around, not initially spotting the group a little ways off. Then they see each other, and there is a moment of understanding like everything is right with the world— and that nothing is. 

That McCree had come back safe and sound as he had left a week ago (save for the few scratches and stitches) and that the base had remained exactly how it was, frozen in time and sheltered from the outside world. Of all the cruel things that has happened to the two, they have been spared from grievous bodily harm another day to run into each other’s arms, leaving Fareeha and Lena to figure out how to manage all of the luggage.

McCree catches him with unsurprising ease, the momentum making the couple twirl in each other’s arms. Genji could feel tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, the overwhelming feeling of relief welling up inside of him all at once. For many years, he has been happy and even overjoyed upon seeing a friend return home. Something was different about this, however. He wasn’t just nervous that a friend was out there in the world away from home; it was no longer just being nervous. Genji was scared. He was genuinely scared that McCree,  _ his  _ home, was gone.

But here he was— smiling and safe and in his arms once more. And when McCree pulls back, tears were shining brightly in his eyes.

“God damn sugar. I’ve missed ya,” he rasps, low and catching in his throat. Automatically, his thumb swept away any tears that had collected. Genji beamed, closing the distance between them to litter little pecks and kisses over the tanned stretch of his cheeks; mindful of the handful of angry red stitches on the high of his cheekbone. The gunslinger chuckled at the fervent efforts of his lover, and despite himself opted to withhold all the kisses.

They only pulled themselves from each other’s arms when Reinhardt clapped a hand on McCree’s shoulder, jostling the two from the love-stricken reverie.

“There is the old man!” the crusader barks out jovially, crows feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes as McCree turned a light red.

“Hey, now. I’m only thirty-eight,” he corrects, having to tilt head and hat back to meet Reinhardt’s eyes, twinkling with mirth.

“Ah, yet wise beyond your years,” the older gentleman says, grinning as McCree sputters and burns a darker shade of red.

“This is just flattery.”

“That is my job,” Genji butts in, having been enjoying the exchange with muted glee to the side of them when he stepped in. Weaseling his way under McCree’s arm, he made his point with a firm grasp on the gunslinger’s hip. Both men laugh at his antics, Reinhardt showing his palms in playful surrender before ushering the couple towards the loading bay doors with a sweeping motion. The rain was beginning to fall from the heavy clouds in a drizzle When the crusader notices the fingers of their prosthetics intertwined, he splits out in a grin from ear to ear. McCree certainly notices as he shakes out of the grasp of the other in an instant.

“Wrong hand, honey,” he explains with a gentle smile, sparing a moment to switch to the other side before he offered his hand again— the one that was soft and warm to the touch beneath the glove he had shucked off. Genji seemed to appreciate the smooth glide of skin against his own prosthetic as he brings the hand up to lay a kiss to the back of it.

“Ahem,” Reinhardt gently puts out there, awkwardly breaking through the moment with a faint blush of his own before he went on to explain, “Kleine Drache missed you greatly.” McCree busts out in a smile, glancing over at Genji who in turn acted like nothing was happening.

“S’that so?” he chuckles as Genji makes a point of looking anywhere but him; staring down at the cracks in the concrete to the overcast and rainy skies of the morning. When the gunslinger kept staring at him, he sighed in defeat and finally looked him in the eyes.

“Alright,” he finally admits as if he was speaking around nails, “I was a little lonely.” McCree gave his hand a gentle squeeze as a reward for the admission, understanding that it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant feeling in the world to be missing that slice of you and knowing it’s walking off to places you’ve never been. Instead of speaking on it and pestering him further, he insisted on walking in silence as Reinhardt gave a rundown of what he had missed around the base. They stop by McCree’s quarters, and Genji shoots the crusader a look. The gunslinger is staring at the ground, thumb sweeping over the ball-joint of his boyfriend’s thumb.

“You two seem tired,” he hums and winks at Genji with his good eye, “so I will let you off here. Athena might have a word for McCree.” His gaze finds their way to Reinhardt’s eyes and cracks a grin, his cigar hanging loose from his lips.

“Thank ya kindly,” he sighs, his serape already being shrugged off. He steps up to the control panel and taps his passcode in while Genji and Reinhardt shared a worried look with one another. He doesn’t even wait, stepping inside his quarters and throwing his clothes off before the doors even closed.

“Rough mission, eh?” Reinhardt muses, a hand coming to rest upon the smaller agent’s shoulder. Genji sighs, knocking his head against his arm tiredly. He is not surprised in the least, had actually expected this outcome. It will take awhile to get his spunk and his wild charm back, but he trusts the gunslinger to talk to him in due time.

When he says his final words with Reinhardt and slips through the door, he can hear the water running. Steam was already beginning to invade the room, and he can hear the clinking of his belt buckle as it hit the floor. Through the crack under the bathroom door, light pours out with the steam, and he can see the gunslinger dancing about as he undresses. He gives him a second until he catches the squeak of the shower tiles before he’s turning the door handle and stepping in. It feels like a sauna and the shower hasn’t even been on for five minutes, his metal armor immediately fogged up and dripping with condensation. 

“You are going to burn something off with this water,” he jests, noting that McCree has opted to keep the prosthetic on. Coincidentally, the moisture of the air makes it easier to slip out of his armor, setting each and every piece off to the side as he goes along.

“Mm, I’m aware,” he sighs, his silhouette in the curtain braced against the wall. He’s idly scratching at his scruffy jaw, possibly to consider if he wants to trim up. Even expected, the hot water meeting his synthetic skin is a shock to his system and he shudders against it.

“You act like you are a dead man walking,” Genji points out, a hand coming to investigate the stitches across his bicep.

“Well, I feel like one,” McCree hisses as the metal of his fingers catch on the stitches. It is mostly healed, yet still tender and unpleasant to touch. Easing away from the wall, he turns around and gives Genji a weary smile. It’s worn at the edges, softened from his work and fatigued. Taking the step closer, they stand chest to chest, and Genji brings a hand up to sweep his hair behind his ear. It’s a simple yet genuine gesture, and McCree frames his hand to his cheek with his own.

“So you are not in the mood tonight?”

McCree has to laugh, “Genji, you might as well be a necrophiliac.”

“Now that wouldn’t be any fun,” he whines, presses fleeting kisses to his cheeks and nose before sighing. McCree has stopped paying attention to him again, staring down at the drain between their feet and watching all the dirt wash away. “Hey,” he says in a whisper, “is everything alright?”

“I don’t know, darlin’,” he admits, nuzzles his hand again with a heartfelt sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Can we talk about?” he pries, lifting McCree’s head up with a little coaxing.

“Not now,” he says, not pulling away from the contact but not trying to follow it either, “I don’t wanna think about it.” Genji nods slowly, idly tracing the new scar on his cheekbone. It’s light pink yet fading, popping out against his dark skin, bound to disappear within the next week.

“Take your time,” he assures, already ushering him out of the shower. He looks like he was going to be sick, his face paling at the mention of the mission. Genji’s chest ached and his mind raced with possibilities.  _ What was so different about this mission? I haven’t seen him this uneasy since he came back from London. _ He helps him stay upright, the bone-deep exhaustion evident in every way he moves; sluggish like the hot water had sapped the only energy he had left in him.

“Baby, honey,” he insists, propped against the counter with the clean boxers Genji had pushed into his hands, “gimme a minute, I got this.”  Despite facing the threat of collapsing, he’s still as stubborn as ever. Doesn’t accept his offered hand, refuses to even rely on the countertop to keep his balance. Teeters on his foot as he puts the boxers on one leg at a time, blots his skin with his towel, sways at the sink as he brushes his teeth.

“I think you need to sleep, Jesse.”

“I’m getting there,” he hums, letting his eyes close for a minute as he summoned the energy to carry on with his routine. Genji scowls, running a hand between his shoulder blades before he was stooping down. With a grunt, McCree is lifted up off his feet and safely in his arms. Disorientated and unhappy, McCree huffs like a child but willingly goes with him, throwing an arm around his neck. The gunslinger still frowns at him though. “Thank ya,” he grumbles, knocking his head against his. Genji nuzzles back, simply standing there for a moment to admire the man in his arms.

His eyes flutter shut, enervation sinking in as he almost nods off. The heavy-set rings beneath his eyes looked almost purple in the light, and his skin felt tepid to touch. If Genji hadn’t known any better, he would think McCree was getting sick with a bug, but something didn’t feel right with that assumption.  _ He needs to go down to the med bay if he can’t sleep this off _ , Genji muses, side-stepping his way through the narrow doorway to avoiding knocking any part of McCree against the frame.

He’s already asleep by the time Genji lowers him to the mattress, grumbling and turning over in the messy bed. It’s still endearing to watch him grab for a pillow, then tuck himself up to it with a deep, relaxed sigh. He never actually  _ uses _ the pillows, Genji finds out, but instead uses the blankets or his lover in place. The pillows themselves get pushed about near the end of the bed or tucked into the curve of his sleeping form when Genji isn’t there to cuddle with. It’s cute, but annoying when McCree wakes up with neck pains and grumbles the whole day.

Genji sighs, opting to watch the easy rise and fall of McCree’s form. It’s like a metronome, three seconds in and three seconds out, steady and reliant. But even tonight, something seems wrong. He shifts every now and then, huffs like an angry badger, and stills once more. Genji watches as the pillow is squeezed and crushed against his chest, a valient attempt to ward of those demons that he can’t see. 

He only watches for a few more moments before he was wriggling under the sheets to join him. The new warmth joining his own hardly roused McCree from his uncomfortable rest, eliciting a grumpy rumble from him as he nuzzles the pillow further. Genji sighs fondly, kissing up his shoulder to his neck as an apology to the unconscious form. He knew that he was in a heavy sleep, all around a much heavier sleeper than himself, but that didn’t stop him from feeling bad for disrupting the steady snoring. He knows it’ll be a long time before he ever accidentally wakes up the big ol’ teddy bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now we get into the heavy stuff.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing drains a man more than hard work, but there is something else bothering McCree that no one else can see.

Lights filter through the curtains, dappled shadows  across the sheets like sunshine through leaves. There was no such peace on a morning as this, Genji easily wiggling out of his partner’s unconscious grasp without arousing so much as a gentle sigh. The bed dipped both ways as McCree rolled over, grabbing for a pillow to share his heat with, and Genji sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. Stealing sidelong glances at the body accompanying him, he memorizes himself with the form once more.

His breathing has calmed, settled over the long hours of the night. The nightmare must’ve drained his energy, sleeping despite the onslaught of light shining across his eyelids.

An idle mind is a dangerous thing.

He rises stiffly, and gets the kinks out of his knees in a little hop. It would do nobody any good to lay around all day waiting for him to wake up. But there was only so much one can do after straightening and tidying every trinket, potted plant, picture frame. The orchids Bastion had gifted them for their five month anniversary wilts upon the old, oaken dresser. His fingers trace the knots and grain of the wood as he tries to muster up the courage to dispose of the once beautiful plant, the sentiment stopping him. The gardens are teeming with life this time of year as the base starts to heat the whole facility significantly and artificial light begins to take over the role of the sun. There are bound to be more orchids in there somewhere, maybe he’ll replace them when McCree’s not looking, see how long it takes for him to notice the newer, perkier flowers winking at him.

Milling around only occupied Genji for a grand total of five minutes before he became restless again. He fidgets with himself as his feet lead him to the door, struggling with the options showing themselves to him. Genji can wait for McCree to wake up, no matter how long that will take. He could also just go now and bring the breakfast to him, and he feels as though the gunslinger would greatly appreciate that option more. The dying flowers stare at him in deafening silence, waiting for him to make up his mind.

“Genji,” a hushed voice calls out from the wall panel, “You are hesitating. Is everything alright?” Genji sighs and his head knocks against the wall in defeat. He should’ve guessed Athena wanted to check in on the two of them sooner or later.

“No, I do not think everything is alright,” he grits out, trying his hardest to keep his voice soft as to not rouse McCree. The door slides open knowingly with a gentle hiss, and he steps into the hall with the voice following him.

“Do you wish to talk about it now?” she presses. Her voice is the pressure of a nurse’s hands to his wound, the intention to heal hurting more than anything. He grinds his teeth and walks as slow as ever, palm barely gracing the surface of the wall as he goes.

“I do not know if I _can_ ,” he admits, “There is a lot to think about.” Genji stops at the end of the hall, now resting the brunt of his weight against the wall. They lapse into silence, a silence long enough for Genji to make himself start walking again.

“Alright,” she says. Even through the monotone, synthetic voice of hers, he can still detect the sigh of her words. “Whenever. I am ready to listen to your troubles.”

“Thank you, a thousand times over,” he says. It’s genuine, heartfelt. If it weren’t for Athena and her great attention to _everything,_ he doesn’t know if he’d be who he is.

She’s watched him from the moment he first arrived to Overwatch headquarters to now. Every step, she was there. Sitting in the medbay for weeks and months, she would talk to him in his native tongue. Urge him to mention the pain in his abdomen to the surgeons. Praised him for every training session whether his performance was outstanding or subpar. Tell him jokes she’s heard around the base even if he’s heard it before just to rouse a chuckle from him. Most importantly, listened to him. Listened to him whenever he would get stabbing pains from his phantom limbs, listen to him ramble and sob about the nightmares he’d have every night, listen to him rant about the superiors doing shoddy jobs.

In exchange, he can remember the first day she ever booted up, her birthday. That her favorite update was the one where Winston installed a Christmas hat for her, and nothing else. If she really wanted to, she could also be any other color in the spectrum. Athena just really likes blue, and if she was allowed at any point she would’ve filtered every camera she had control over to be blue. She had a crush on Jarvis from those old superhero movies.

She was an older sister to him. There was not any part of him that didn’t believe that.  

However, every part of him regrets not paying attention to his surroundings. Genji runs right into someone, being so terribly occupied with his reminiscing. Luckily, the other party was paying enough attention to avoid spilling both cups of coffee in their hands.

“My apologies,” he starts, finally taking his eyes off his feet to look up. Soldier raises an eyebrow at him, but a small smile plays across his lips.

“Easy, you’re alright,” the old wardog reassures. He seems to be in a good mood this morning, dare he say happy for once. He rocks back onto his heels to give the young agent enough room to compose himself and then it hits him that Soldier might’ve been searching for him. It wasn’t likely, as the old man knows how to get Athena to call someone down just fine. That said, his quarters are a long ways off from this segment of the base, and an odd route to take as well; possibly twice as long to walk. His coffee would be cold by the time he reached his quarters.

His _coffees._ Soldier’s ungloved fingers impatiently thrummed against one of the coffee mugs as Genji straightened himself. One of the two was clearly the old veteran’s mug, the one with the _1# DAD_ imprinted on the side where his fingers curved through the handle. The other was white with a willow tree faintly painted on, faded through the years of constant use.

“I thought Ana made it clear you were supposed to wear shirts around the base, it’s not exactly beach weather,” Genji says flatly, but Soldier still barks a laugh despite the blatant disinterest. His happy mood was not exactly rubbing off on him. It irritated him. But that just might be because he was staring at Hanzo’s mug in his hands.

“Ah, she’s seen more of me than she’s ever wanted to,” he sighs like he’s reminiscing, “I doubt the quick trip to the kitchen hurt.” When the younger agent doesn’t chuckle or even shift about, Soldier clears his throat awkwardly. “How’s Jesse? I see he’s not with you,” he tries for a conversation, but Genji only wilts further at the mention, a flower without the sun for far too long.

“He’s sleeping in, the post-mission stress is bogging him down.” Soldier nods in understanding, the corner of his lips pulling down in a scowl. He buries his face in his mug with a low hum, thinking.

“Well, the mission debrief shouldn’t be for another hour, hopefully we get the intel we need to make our next move,” he says with a smack of his lips, “Then we can put this whole thing to rest and move on.” Genji perks up at that, making a mental note of that. “Give Jesse my word, and tell him that I wish him good health,” he says as he scoots past him, deciding that he has had enough of the conversation and the young agent’s company. Genji nods, mumbling a soft thanks as he mulls it over. McCree might like to hear that, and he hurries to get his coffee before everyone else drinks it.

The kitchen is as busy as it always is this morning: a small handful of people milling about, generally the older folk. Ana idly stirs her tea with a spoon, staring at the empty space on the counter when Genji’s presence roused her attention. She offers a weary smile, her eyes telling him that her mind is elsewhere. Across the room, Fareeha is leaving with the last of the coffee pot, stilled dressed down in her fluffy slippers and pajamas. She doesn’t acknowledge Genji as she steps past him.

“Everything alright?” he asks when a considerable amount of time passes. Even from across the room he could see the sudden question spooked the older agent, who tries to chuckle and wave it off.

“Ah, yes. Just worried about my little warrior,” she sighs, rising to her feet with calculated care. Despite the extra measures, a few joints still pop noisily. “Would you and Jesse enjoy some pancakes?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Ana grins, and he can feel the warmth radiating from her. “Anything for my boys,” she says, now merrier with something to occupy herself. Genji turns to her after a second of processing, his mind turning blank like all of his thoughts and fears had momentarily vanished to let that one thing soak in. Never has she used a term of endearment like that, and he feels equal parts concerned and thrilled.

Genji realizes that he was staring dumbly at the back of her head as the coffee pot brewed and the stove burned away. “I notice he is not with you,” she says, “Is he feeling alright?” He sighs, and it catches the older woman’s interest. Ana turns with a frown and beckons him over when he just stands there, on the other side of the room like a fool. “Mission wear him down?” she whispers as though it were a secret.

Nodding slowly, he finds the place next to her comforting. Feels like a kid next to his mother, watching her make his favorite breakfast. But she was not his mother no matter how much they acted like it, and this was nothing youthful nor innocent about the bags under both of their eyes and the weight of their careers on their shoulders.

“There is honey in one of these cabinets,” she hums, not taking her eyes off the griddle, “Fresh from the gardens.”

“Is Bastion learning how to cook now?” he asks, his voice falling short of capturing his interest. Ana gives a shrug and a noncommittal hum.

“As best as it can,” she says, “Whoever is around when it’s in the kitchen gets to taste test. The honey is really nice, I got to help with it.” Genji chuckles, vacating the comfortable space beside his superior to fetch the honey she spoke so highly of.

“It’s on the top shelf, Shimada.” Both agents turn towards the source of the voice. Zarya stands beside the coffee pot as it finishes up, dressed down in sweats and a muscle tee. She spares a glance at Genji with a soft smile and nods her head at Ana.  Beside her, Mei groggily grabs for a mug with the efficiency of a toddler, her glasses pushed up into her hair. “The top shelf is where the omnic keeps all of its food. Not a bad cook,” she says, scooching the mug closer to her grabbing hands. Mei murmurs something under her breath, and the taller of the two knocks her glasses down onto her nose with a light tap. She jumps when her vision is suddenly crystal clear, touching her fingers to the frames to adjust them with an awkward chortle.

“Thank you!” Ana chirps with a smile. She scoops the pancakes onto the spatula, one at a time, and settles them onto two plates.

“Ah- where did you say it was?” he asks, rocking back onto his heels as he peers into the ridiculously high cupboard. Zarya trots over to the shorter agent with a huff of faux annoyance, tousling his hair as she reaches atop the highest shelf. Genji ducks away from her hand with smile, rising onto his toes when she had retrieved the jar but continued to hold the honey in the air.

“Nuh-uh, promise to give thanks when you see our omnic friend.” Genji blinked at her, shock and joy meeting in the middle as he processes the words for what they were.

“Of course!” he says, hopping just a bit higher and barely gracing the mason jar of honey still firmly in her grasp. Zarya gives a hum of doubt, raising a scarred eyebrow at the agent before handing it over. Genji sighs in relief as the jar is safely delivered to him, inspecting the golden hue of the honey and the crimson flecks in it. In scratchy handwriting, the label reads ‘ _Bastion’s cinnamon honey_ ’ with a little bee doodled next to it.

Zarya moves to usher her sleepy girlfriend away from Genji's and McCree's coffees and out the door as Ana watches them go from the stove. She sighs dreamily watching them walk the corridor, "Young love is so precious." The off-hand comment makes Genji look up at her from his item of inspection, but she moves on before he can comment on the statement. "Well, I stop keeping you from your boy, now. The pancakes are scratch, appreciate them," she teases, raising an eyebrow and pointing with the spatula; effectively pulling a small chuckle from Genji.

“I will absolutely give you my thanks, and Jesse’s as well.”

“And tell Jesse that I wish him good health.” Genji looked up at her from his item of inspection. She gives him a smile, weary and disquieted. His lips pull up into a simper, and he nods.

“I will.”

“Now go, I don’t wanna see those troubled eyes anymore,” she says, scooting the two plates closer to him, “My poor heart can’t take it.” As she turns to address the dirty dishes on the stove, he can see her smile widen to herself. A simple thought thought crosses his mind as fast as he crossed the kitchen. Ducking down, he gives her a little kiss on the temple in gratitude and nabs the plates from the counter. Ana lets out a little gasp and puts a hand over her heart and one on her cheek, her golden cheeks flushing. “You’re gonna kill me one day, Genji,” she says in good humor, and Genji can hear the waver to her voice, moved by the simple gesture.

“Let us hope it is no day soon.”

 

The walk back to his quarters went uninterrupted, quiet in his mind as he focuses on the balancing act of two plates, two mugs, and a jar of honey. When the doors to his quarters slides open, he was greeted with natural light, stillness, and silence, and for a second, he feels a whole swarm of butterflies inside of his stomach. They overtake him, urging him forward so fast he almost drops a mug.

“Jesse?” he whispers to the form still laying in bed. When he gets no answer, he finds himself rushing to set everything down safely and dashing over to the bed. His knees hit the mattress and he gently jostles McCree with a panic. His breaths are shallow and slow in his sleep, almost unnoticeable from the mountain of blankets over his form, but he rouses with a groan of displeasure that calms the swarm of Genji’s stomach. He rolls over, grimacing and squinting at Genji, silhouetted by the early morning light. The tension unravels from him, and he wiggles about in his struggle to sit upright.

“Morning, peach,” he rumbles, his voice terribly hoarse and gruff. Collecting his legs beneath him, he allows himself to lean forward to press a fleeting kiss to his lovers jaw. Genji coos happily, returning the affection by stealing his hand from his lap and pressing gentle kisses to the bruises of his knuckles, yellow and purple from time.

“Here,” he says, pushing the plate of pancakes onto his lap. McCree blinks the remaining sleep from his eyes and stares at them for a moment, one long enough to pull a chuckle from Genji before he breaks out into a grin.

“Aw, thank ya kindly,” he says, clearing his throat roughly. Genji hums his acknowledgement, sliding from the bed to retrieve the mason jar and McCree’s coffee. Handing him the honey first, he watches McCree curiously turn it this way and that in a quick onceover. Then he’s handed his hot coffee, tentatively sipped at as Genji settles by the dresser with his own food.

“How are you feeling?” he says, cutting through the pancakes with the side of his fork.

“As good as I can be,” McCree says, scratching the scruff of his jaw as he sets the mug between the heavy folds of the comforter, “I’m just feelin’ like I’ve been rode hard an’ put away wet.” Genji gives him a look, unreadable and uncomfortable.

“Tired?”

“Yes, sugar,” he chuckles, “That means I’m tired. You seem it to.”

“I’m not tired,” he says around a mouthful, “I’m just thinking.” McCree nods knowingly.

“Hard to never think,” he says wistfully, “Is this about your brother?”

The agent tilts his head at the other, shifting restlessly in his spot. “Yes, how did you know?” McCree shrugs lazily, coating his pancakes with entirely too much honey.

“Last I saw, you two didn’t seem all that happy with each other,” he says, raising an eyebrow and nodding his head dubiously, “I think I know why too. You ever apologize?” The brother hangs his head, shame rising to his cheeks. Stubbornly, to avoid such a question, he takes another bite; McCree continues anyway. “I don’t think he would be all too mad after how long it’s been but one can hope. That seemed like a real sore spot you rubbed.”

“No, I didn’t apologize,” he says, a defensive edge cutting into his voice, “That is not because I didn’t try.” McCree cocks his head, setting his fork down as he straightens up.

“He was that pissy with you?”

“Not… not exactly,” he sighs, “I had apologized, and then told him that I was simply scared for him.” Genji takes the first sip from his tea, grimacing at the now lukewarm drink. “I said that he has had hazardous love interests, and I did not want to seem him hurt.” The gunslinger tenses, scratching at the back of his neck consciously.

“Has he had a bad history with that sort o’ thing?” he asks, his voice sounding strangled and pathetic in his own ears.

“Yes, even when he was young,” he says, shifting from one foot to the other, “Did he ever approach you?” His gaze is accusatory, and McCree feels the heat under his collar.

“Drunkenly, yeah,” he admits as he fiddles with the wisps of hair not caught in his ponytail. His brows furrow as he tries to dredge up the memory, “We shared some drinks one night, and I would’ve slept with him if he hadn’t been so… so downright weird about it.” Genji nods along, sipping his tea. He cannot decide if the shiver of disgust is from the tea now colder than he likes or the thought of his brother, drunk, trying to get in a cowboy’s pants. “I didn’ even stick around long enough to get our shirts off- well, not mine. Jus’ left him there to sleep the alcohol off,” he says, scraping the prongs of the fork against the ceramic plate despite the awful grating noise, “He hasn’t acted right with me since.”

“I did not know that, but I can say that my brother does not surprise me,” Genji says, his voice is flat and even, but McCree can hear the distaste plain as day, “Has he caused you any trouble?”

“Nah, he’s just nothing better than a angry ol’ cat,” he hums, “Damn bristles at the sight of me.”

“Hm.” McCree looks up from where his fork was making thin scratches through the honey. Genji takes a drink from his mug and sets it on the dresser. “Are you scared of him?” he asks slowly. The gunslinger swallows thickly, feels like he’s being interrogated.

“Scared?” he croaks. The fork is set on the plate and the plate is pushed aside to make way for his fidgety hands.

“Yes,” he says, his voice clipped like he expected McCree to know what he was thinking, “Scared that he might lash out.” Genij watches as he nods his head absently, but not answer the question. He was thinking again for a long time.

“He don’t seem like the type for revenge,” he says, his voice having softened to a whisper before he clears his throat, “That might jus’ be me. I jus’ hope he’s treatin’ himself right.”

“We can only hope.” He eyeballs the gunslinger’s plate, hardly anything picked off but rather played with. It would take a blind man not to know that something was wrong with him; McCree eats half  his weight in food every morning if he goes to sleep tired the night before. He observes how he pushed the fork through the thick syrup, idly stabbed the fluffy pancakes as they talked.

“I’m getting Angela.”

‘Huh?” he startles, and his eyes widen through the flash of fear. The look in his eyes are that of a cornered dog, one that has learned helplessness and no longer bares its teeth.

“You aren’t feeling well,” he explains himself gently, “I am going to get Angela.” McCree frowns, the deep set lines in his face berating his decision before he ever said a word.

“Baby, I’m fine.”

“You do not seem fine.” The words are not accusing, nor are they matter-of-fact. It’s said softly, the voice of someone unsure of the very words he was saying, but still trying. The gunslinger seems to age more with one sentence then the three decades of work and hardship under his belt.

“I’m just thinkin’,” he sighs, stealing the mug from the hold of the comforter, “I had a funny feelin’ about that fella.” Genji nods knowingly, setting his own mug down as he crosses the room. The bed dips, the new weight making McCree hug his coffee a little closer to himself as Genji situates.

“They’ll find him soon and put an end to your worries,” he says, trying to sound positive and offering his best smile, “I was told in the kitchen that they had a lead on him-”

“It’s somethin’ else,” McCree interjects. When a familiar arm drapes over his shoulder and falls along his back, he doesn’t move into it as he would’ve.

“I will talk to Winston to what Athena picked up. Debrief is soon,” Genji says, leaning onto the unresponsive bulk of his lover, “I think they are expecting another mission.” McCree nods absently, bringing the coffee to lips but never tipping it. Following the empty gaze across the room, he stares intently at the pictures lining the desk, even when Genji removes himself from his space and sets about getting ready for the day. About fifteen or so minutes into the silence and staring, Genji stops picking out clothes and comes to kneel before him. “Are you absolutely sure you are alright? That you are not sick?” he urges, stealing the plate to set on the floor beside him. McCree blinks as if he was startled, focusing on those dark eyes peering out from dark tips. He smiles feebly, and it doesn’t reach his eyes as he leans forward and gives a kiss to the horn of his helmet.

“Yes, honey dumplin’, I’m not sick,” he reassures, and when Genji still looks on in concern, he adds: “I’ll be a-okay.” He reluctantly accepts the answer for what it is, and stands with a stiff pop in his knees. He doesn’t pressure the gunslinger to move, knows that it wouldn’t be necessary as one can only lay there and waste away for so long.

“I trust you will not skip this meeting?” he says teasingly, raising an eyebrow at him from across the room when all he does is wiggle beneath the covers once more.

“I will be there, sugar. Go do your thing.”

“Mccree?”

“Yes darlin’?”

Genji stops by the doorway, peering into the gloomy room of theirs. “I love you.” He’s quiet for a moment, and his smile grows, but his eyes still don’t follow.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been sick since thanksgiving, and only getting sicker. usually that would mean i would be writing more but i've been doing anything but. 
> 
> tumblr: peachhflowers


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